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JOSEPH  JEFFERSON   AS  RIP  VAN   WINKLE 
Copyright.  1894,  by  B.  J    Falk,  New  York. 


Copyright,  i8<)6, 
Bv  Thomas  Y.  Crowell  &  Companv. 


C.    J.    PETERS   *    SON,    TYPOtiR APHERS. 
RCKKWEI.L  &   CHURCHHILL    PRINTERS. 


r.-:Ai. 


College 
Ubrary 

Miff 


PREFACE. 


This  volume  is  not  designed  for  the  use  of  theatri- 
cal people  alone.  Inasmuch  as  the  various  chapters  are 
written  by  authors  who  are  recognized  as  authorities 
upon  the  subjects  coming  under  their  pens,  as  well 
as  writers  experienced  in  pleasing  the  public,  it  is 
hoped  that  the  book  will  fill  a  helpful  corner  in  the 
biographical  department  of  home  libraries,  while  at  the 
same  time  it  acquaints  general  readers  with  the  careers 
and  methods  of  work  of  our  American  actors. 

Although  the  theatre  has  existed  in  this  country  for 
a  century  and  a  half,  and  in  these  later  days  has 
flourished  wonderfully,  the  literature  of  the  stage  is 
meagre.  Of  histories  there  are  none  that  cover  the 
entire  period ;  of  biographical  works  there  are  very 
few,  and  none  that  deal,  after  the  manner  of  this 
volume,  with  any  considerable  number  of  contempora- 
neous actors.  The  central  idea  of  "  Famous  American 
Actors  of  To-day  "  is  to  bring  before  the  reader  each 
noted  player  as  he  is  viewed  by  a  writer  who  either 
has   known  the  actor   personally,  or  has   made   an  es- 

iii 


156853D 


IV  PREFACE. 

pecial  study  of  his  professional  work.  In  this  way 
there  is  produced,  with  varied  characteristic  style,  a 
series  of  reliable  biographies  and  accurate  criticisms 
out  of  the  routine  order. 

The  idea  of  the  book  was  conceived  by  Mr.  McKay, 
and  the  carrying  out  of  the  project  was  enthusiastically 
assisted  by  all  the  contributors.  The  time  of  "  to- 
day "  was  limited  (with  one  exception)  to  the  decade 
just  closing.  The  order  of  arrangement  of  the  essays 
is  purely  artificial,  and  is  not  intended  to  indicate 
rank  of  any  kind.  First,  the  long-established  stars  are 
presented  ;  then  the  younger  stars,  with  the  notable 
stock  actors;  then  the  special  character  comedians. 


CONTENTS 


Joseph  Jefferson    . 
Mme.  Janauschek  . 

Edwin  Hooth  .  .  . 

Makv  Axdkkson  .     . 
La\vkkn(  I.   IJakkett 

Mmi:.  .Modjeska    .     . 

I)I<»N    IJouciCAri.T 
Claka  Mokris 


PAC.R 

Edwarti  Kim^ i 

Author  of  Joseph  /.alvionah,  Europe  in 
Storm  and  Calm,  The  Golden  Spike, 
and  other  novels. 

Philip  Hale 18 

Critic  on  the  Boston  Journal,  essayist,  and 
Boston  correspondent  of  the  Jfttsiia/ 
Courier. 

Henry  A.  Clapp 26 

Critic  on  the  Hoston  Advertiser,  essayist, 
and  Shakespearian  lecturer. 

Joliii  I).  Harry 51 

Magazine  writer  and  editor. 

BcHJainin  K.  Wool/ 62 

Critic  on  the  Hoston  Herald,  composer  of 
"  I'ounce  and  C."o.,"  and  "  Westward, 
llo !  "  and  author  of  "  The  Mighty  1  Mil- 
lar," and  other  plays. 

Charles  1'..  I..  11 'impale  ....       72 

Author  of  Shakespeare's  Heroines  on  the 
Stage  and  Shakespeare's  Heroes  on  the 
Stage. 

lame  Ihotnpson 81 

Critic  on  the  Xe-.v  )'ork  Cotnmeriiai  Ad- 
jfrtiser. 

Willanl  Holeomb 88 

Dramatic  editor  of  the  Washington  I'ost, 
author  of  Log  C  'ai<in  Monolognes,  and 
other  vcrS4:ii,  and  author  of  tlie  play 
"  Her  l-ist  Rcliear«.il." 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


Mk.  and  Mrs.  W.  J.  Florence,  — 

Albert  Ellery  Berg 94 

Of  the  New  J  'ork  Dramatic  Mirror. 

Fanny  Davenport   .     .    Jay  />'.  Iknton 108 

Boston  correspondent  of  the  Ne^u  York 
Dramatic  A/irror. 

J.  Lkstek  Wallack      .    Julian  MiJij^nus 119 

Dramatic  manager,  dramatist,  and  critic. 

Mks.  John  Drew      .     .     Col.  T.  Allston  Brinvn    .     .     .     .     127 

Author  of  Histcrry  of  the  A  titer  kan  Stage. 

Richard  Manskhm-D      .     William  Henry  Frost     ....     135 

Of  the  Ne7u  i'ork  Tribune,  and  autlior 
of   The  ]Vagtier  Story  Book. 

Ada  Rehan      ....     Edward  A.  Dithtnar      ....     146 

Dramatic  editor  of  the  Neiv  I  'ork  Times. 

John  Drew      ....    James  S.  Metcalfe 154 

Dramatic  editor  of  Life,  and  managing  edi- 
tor of  tlie  Cosmopolitait  Magazine. 

Julia  Marlowe-Taher,    Edward  Fuller 159 

Author  of  Fello^M  Tra7'el/ers  and  The 
Complaining  Millions  o/  Men. 

John  (Gilbert  ....     Stephen  Fiskc 170 

Dramatic  editor  of  tlie  Spirit  of  the  Times. 

WlLLL\M  VV^ARREN     .      .     Mrs.  E.  G.  Sutherland       .     .     .     178 

(Dorothy  Lundt)  co-author  of  the  play 
"  Mars'r  Van,"  and  of  the  novel  P'ort 
Frayiie,  and  dramatic  editor  of  the 
Boston  Coiiiinoinvealth. 

Mrs.  Vlncent  ....     George  P.  Baker 194 

Assistant  professor  at  Harvard  College, 
author  of  The  Principles  of  Argu- 
mentation, editor  of  John  Lyly's  I-'.n- 
dyinion,  Shakespeare's  A  Midsummer 
Night's  Dream,  etc. 

Charles  P'isher  .     .     .     Laurence  Mutton 204 

Author  of  Flays  and  Players,  Curiosities 
of  the  American  Stage,  etc. 

Chas.  R.  Thokne,  Jr.    .     A.  ^^.  Palmer 221 

Manager  Pdlmcr"a  Theatre,  Mew  York. 


CONTENTS. 


Vll 


Agnes  Booth      .  . 

J.  H.  Stoddart  .  . 
Maurice  Barrymork 

Rose  Coghlax     .  . 

W.  J.  Le  Moyne  .  . 

K.  M.  HoLi.AXi)    .  . 

Georgia  Cayvax 

e.  h.  sotiikrx     .  . 


Lewis  C.  Strang 231 

Dramatic  critic. 

Eihcin  F.  Edgett 238 

Dramatic  editor  of  the  Boston  Transcript. 

Edivard  I-'ales  Coivard  .     .     .     .     241 

Dramatic  editor  of  the  Ni^v  York  World. 


Frederic  Edward  McKay 

Editor  of  Theatrical  Tidings. 


249 


William  F.  Gilchrest     ....     259 

Dr.imatic    editor   of    the    Evening    Tele- 
gram, New  York. 


George  Parsons  Lathrop 

Poet  and  author,  librettist  of  "  The  Scarlet 
letter,"  and  editor  of  Hawthonie's 
works. 


Ralph  Edmunds 

Feuilletonist. 


266 


274 


:86 


Ale.xaxder  Salvini 
James  O'Neil  .... 

Maggie  .Mitchell  .     . 

LoTTA  Crahtkke      .     . 
Minnie  Maddekn-Fiskk 


Edward  M.  A  If  r lend    .     .     . 

Author  of  the  plays  "  The  Louisianian," 
"The  Diplomat,"  "  .\  Foregone  Con- 
clusion," and  "  .Across  the  Futnmac," 
and  co-author  of  "  The  Great  Diamond 
Robbery." 

Ja^nes  Albert  IValdron  ....     292 

Managing  editor  of  the  Xnv  i'ori-  />rii- 
tnatic  Mirror. 

Harrison  Grey  Fiske      ....     299 

Editor  of  the  .V«j>  ^'ork  Dramatic  Mir- 
ror, and  Yite- President  of  the  New 
York  .Shakes|M:arc  Society. 

Luther  L.  H olden 309 

Dramatic  critic,  and  author  of  bouks  of 
travel. 


Deshler  U'elJt  .     .     . 

Founder  of    /'he  I'heatrr. 


32' 


Mildred  Aldrich 32S 

.M.iKa<ine    writer,    feuilletoniil.    and  dra- 
matic editor  o(  the  .V/.  kell  .Magazine. 


Vlll 


CONTENTS. 


W.  H.  Crane  .     . 
Stuart  Rohson    . 

John  T.  Raymond 

Sol  Smith  Russell 
Nat  C.  Goodwin 


Denman  Thompson.  ^ 
and  Our  Rural  , 
Life  Drama.  ) 

Edward  Harrigan  . 


PAGE 

Joseph  Howard,  Jr 341 

Feuilletonist  and  correspondent. 

Cliitrles  M.  Skinner 352 

Dramatic  editor  of  the  Brooklyn  Eagle, 
and  author  of  the  play  "  Villon,  the 
Vagabond." 

Franklin  Fyles      .     .     .     .     .     .     361 

Dramatic  editor  of  the  J\lt^v  i'ork  Sun, 
author  of  the  play  "Ciovernor  of  Ken- 
tucky," and  co-author  of  the  play  "  (Jirl 
I  Uft  Behind  Me." 

William  T.  Adams 368 

(Oliver  Optic)  author  of  the  Soldier  Hoy 
Series,  )  'oiing  A  nierica  A  brotiii  Series, 
etc. 

Frank  F.  Chase 377 

(The  Man  Who  Laughs)  dramatic  critic 
and  play  publisher. 

F.  Irenceus  Ste7>cnson    ....     389 

Of  the  Netu  \'ork  Independent,  and  author 
of  dramatic  and  musical  criticisms  in 
Harper'' s  periodicals. 

IV.  S.  Blake 395 

Essayist. 


JOSEPH    JEFFERSON. 

Bv  EinvARi)  KiNii. 


Distinction  and  repose  are  the  salient  features  in 
that  delightful  artistic  temperament  which  has  given 
to  Joseph  Jefferson  so  prominent  a  place  in  the  front 
rank  of  his  contemporaries,  and  leaves  him,  at  the 
close  of  more  than  half  a  century  of  active  work  on 
the  stage,  one  of  the  most  popular  of  our  actors.  ICd- 
mond  Scherer,  in  writing  of  George  Kliot,  somewhere 
says  that  there  is  no  art  without  reflection  ;  but  that 
reflection  is  nevertheless  the  most  dangerous  enemy 
of  art.  If  we  had  not  the  ample  assurances  contained 
in  Mr.  Jefferson's  entertaining  biograpliy  that  he  has 
made  every  one  of  his  important  impersonations  the 
subject  of  careful  reflection,  we  should  still  have 
learned  the  fact  from  the  nature  of  his  work.  He 
has  known  how  to  reach  and  keep  the  golden  mean 
between  the  reflective  moot!  which  obtrudes  upon  art, 
and  that  which  gives  it  the  truth  without  whicii  it  is 
valueless. 

The  touching  of  this  golden  mean  is  a  sure  indica- 
tion that  Mr.  Jefferson  possesses  genius.  It  is  genius 
alone  which  has  enabled  him  to  invest  certain  tvjH's 
with  a  distinction  which  they  did  not  originally  pos- 
sess.     It  is  genius  alone  by  means  of  which  lie  wrought 

I 


2  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

out  the  subtle  pathos  of  Rip  Van  Winkle,  a  character 
which  crystallized  in  his  mind,  according  to  his  own 
confession,  very  much  as  all  the  finer  literary  creations 
of  great  authors  crystallize.  And  it  is  genius  which 
has  given  him  the  secret  of  that  repose  in  art  so  sought 
after,  and  so  rarely  attained,  by  all  dramatic  artists  of 
merit  in  our  generation.  We  are  wont  to  speak  of  a 
person  of  Mr.  Jefferson's  acquirements  as  a  "  finished  " 
artist  ;  and  when  we  thus  indicate  that  he  has  reached 
the  limits  of  perfection  in  his  art,  we  mean  that  the 
originality  which  furnishes  distinction,  and  the  repose 
which  makes  the  originality  impressive,  are  apparent 
in  all  that  he  does. 

Perhaps  the  most  striking  feature  of  Mr.  Jeffer- 
son's genius  is  that  it  developed  steadily  for  a  long 
number  of  years  under  what  might  be  described  as 
adverse  circumstances.  The  wandering  life  of  barn- 
storming, drifting  along  the  currents  of  great  rivers, 
and  giving  Thespian  performances  on  fiatboats  and 
steamers,  or  following,  as  in  Mexico,  the  fortunes  of 
an  army,  gave  admirable  opportunities  for  observa- 
tion, but  did  not  offer  that  attrition,  that  constant 
submission  to  critical  audiences,  which  in  most  coun- 
tries is  thought  necessary  to  the  formation  of  cor- 
rect dram.atic  taste.  For  a  long  term  of  years  the 
commercial  value  of  his  art  was  of  necessity  foremost 
in  the  young  actor's  mind.  He  rose  by  the  slowest 
of  gradations,  from  the  tiny  child  who  danced  Jim 
Crow,  to  the  aspiring  young  man  who  saw  a  chance 
for  fame  in  the  carving  out  of  Asa  Trenchard,  as 
an  American  type  to  stand  the  test  of  time.  Behind 
him  was  an  ancestry  of  actors,  and  on  his  mother's 
side  he  was  allied  to  the  lively  nation  which  has  always 


JOSEPH    JEFFERSON.  3 

been  pre-eminent  in  theatrical  art.  He  met  and  acted 
with  and  studied  most  of  the  actors  and  actresses 
prominent  in  his  youth. 

But  these  were  not  advantages  sufficient  to  have  given 
him  his  present  post  of  honor,  had  he  possessed  merely 
talent.  The  apprenticeship  of  poverty,  and  the  vagrant 
life  of  the  adventurous  actor,  served  to  discipline  his 
genius  until  he  knew  exactly  in  which  channels  his 
energy  would  be  best  directed  ;  and  then  he  achieved 
fame,  no  longer  by  slow  paces,  but  by  leaps  and 
bounds. 

I  can  think  of  no  other  eminent  comedian  to  whom 
Mr.  Jefferson  may  more  fitly  be  compared  than  to 
M,  Got,  save  that  I  should  be  inclined  to  deny  to  the 
latter  the  same  fine  degree  of  genius  perceptible  in  Mr. 
Jefferson's  temperament.  The  dean  of  the  great  com- 
pany of  the  ComMic  Fratt^aise  had  a  very  different 
youth  from  the  creator  of  Rip  Van  Winkle.  While 
the  American  actor  was  acting  in  raw  country  towns, 
and  making  long  journeys  from  one  farming  commu- 
nity to  another,  the  Frenchman  was  studying  at  the 
College  Charlemagne,  getting  a  little  e.xpcrietice  of 
the  civil  service  ;  and  finally  entering  Provost's  class  at 
the  Conservatoire,  where  he  had  to  put  forth  every 
atom  of  talent  to  secure  the  second,  and  finally  the 
first  prize  for  comedy. 

The  only  rough  life  which  he  saw  was  in  a  year's 
compulsory  service  in  the  army  in  time  of  j)eace. 
With  the  exception  of  this  single  year,  he  was  from 
tender  youth  up  in  the  midst  of  a  brilliant  and  highly 
polished  society,  where  talent  was  the  rule  rather 
than  the  exception  ;  and  for  fully  fifty  years  he  acted 
steadily  at  the  first  theatre  in   the  world.     The  mere 


4  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

fact  of  being  thus  steadily  anchored  in  the  centre 
of  a  great  cosmopolitan  capital  where  chances  for  ob- 
servation are  almost  infinite,  and  come  to  him  daily 
without  the  smallest  disturbance  of  the  even  tenor  of 
his  life,  would  seem  of  immense  advantage  to  the 
French  actor. 

Yet  while  he  has  acted  a  great  many  more  types,  he 
has  founded  none  which  surpass  in  natural  humor  and 
pathos  those  to  be  found  in  Mr.  Jefferson's  repertory. 
He  has  cultivated  no  superior  qualities  of  voice,  pres- 
ence, or  gesture.  If  Mr.  Jefferson  were  to-day  to  have 
provided  for  him  a  succession  of  plays,  as  good  from 
both  the  literary  and  dramatic  standpoint  as  those  in 
which  M.  Got  has  had  the  honor  of  appearing,  he 
would  stand  fully  abreast  of  him,  and  there  are  deli- 
cate qualities  in  which  he  would  excel  him. 

The  force  of  genius  has  enabled  the  American  to 
draw  from  inferior  opportunity  and  surroundings  a 
series  of  results  quite  as  brilliant  as  any  single  ones 
which  are  the  outcome  of  M.  Got's  exceptional  train- 
ing. There  is  a  weird  and  tender  charm  in  Mr.  Jef- 
ferson's Caleb  Plummer  to  which  the  distinguished 
professor  of  the  great  institution  where  France's  best 
dramatic  artists  are  trained  can  never  hope  to  attain. 
And  while  M.  Got,  as  he  descends  with  measured  step 
into  the  mellow  vale  of  fourscore  years,  manifests  a 
decided  tendency  to  preach  in  his  roles,  thus  divesting 
them  of  much  of  their  d/amatic  force,  Mr.  Jefferson 
remains  at  less  than  seventy  untouched  by  manner- 
isms, and  as  sprightly  and  gracious  in  the  elder  comedy 
as  he  is  quaint,  shrewd,  and  original  in  the  peculiar 
American  types  with  which  his  name  and  fame  are  so 
closely  associated. 


JOSEPH    JEFFERSON.  5 

Docs  he  think  that  his  art  has  been  in  any  degree 
hindered  or  narrowed  by  the  constant  travel  and  the 
modern  system  of  "  combination  companies,"  of  which 
he  found  himself  forced  to  be  one  of  the  pioneers  ? 
On  this  point  he  expresses  himself  only  with  marked 
reserve.  In  one  paragraph  of  his  autobiography  he 
remarks  that  "  it  is  the  freshness,  the  spontaneity,  of 
acting  which  charms.  How  can  a  weary  brain  produce 
this  quality?  Show  me  a  tired  actor,  and  I  will  show 
you  a  dull  audience."  This  would  indicate  his  dislike 
of  the  system  which  drags  a  company  over  two  or  three 
States  in  a  week,  and  brings  them  now  and  then  to  the 
interpretation  of  a  brilliant  comedy,  demanding  utmost 
verve  and  brio,  at  the  close  of  an  exhausting  journey, 
"  Yet,"  he  adds,  "  the  systems  by  which  the  talents  of 
actors  became  distributed  to-day  are  adapted  to  the 
growth  of  the  country."  It  would  seem'  as  if  in  this 
little  phrase  Mr.  Jefferson  had  embodied  an  uncon- 
scious condemnation  of  the  "  system  "  to  which  he  has 
been  compelled  to  submit,  but  which,  had  he  not  pos- 
sessed positive  genius,  might  have  caused  the  wreck  of 
his  artistic  career. 

It  is  always  a  grave  thing  to  claim  the  possession  of 
genius  for  any  living  artist,  literary  or  dramatic  ;  and 
the  great  multitude  which,  in  Mr.  Jefferson's  case,  is 
already  more  than  half  persuaded,  usually  demands 
some  proof  in  support  of  the  assertion.  In  the  present 
case  there  is  abundant  material  for  the  support  of  the 
claim  ;  and  it  is  to  be  found  not  merely  in  romantic 
and  picturesque  roles  like  Rip  Van  Winkle,  but  in 
smaller  and  more  Meissonier-like  studies  with  which 
the  galleries  of  his  repertory  are  hung. 

Mr.  Jefferson  had  excellent  opportunities  of  study 


6  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

which  have  been  denied  to  some  of  his  contemporaries; 
and  he  improved  them  to  the  utmost  from  the  earliest 
period  when  he  began  to  feel  originality  stirring  within 
him.  He  had  encountered  all  that  was  best  in  the  act- 
ing talent  of  his  day  before  he  struck  out  a  single  new 
creation  from  the  quartz  of  his  own  observation;  and 
it  is  enormously  to  his  credit  that  he  borrowed  no 
traits,  no  mannerisms,  no  eccentricities,  from  any  of  the 
great  players.  He  studied  their  knowledge  of  the  stage 
and  made  it  his,  but  it  would  have  been  repulsive  to 
him  to  copy  from  them. 

Meantime  he  was  accumulating  a  vast  fund  of  curi- 
ous observation  of  typical  phases  of  human  nature, 
with  which  he  was  ready  to  enrich  any  creation  the 
hazard  of  the  stage  might  allow  him  to  present.  It 
is  of  no  special  consequence  to  us  that  the  elder  Booth 
taught  him  to  play  Marrall  in  "A  New  Way  to  Pay 
Old  Debts,"  save  that  it  shows  what  good  technical 
training  he  received.  But  it  is  intensely  interesting 
to  trace  the  blossoming  of  such  a  charming,  fresh,  and 
original  character  as  Asa  Trenchard  from  the  knowl- 
edge of  Yankee  types  obtained  during  a  wide  expe- 
rience of  travel,  when  those  types  stood  out  in  bold 
relief,  because  they  were  strongly  contrasted  with  the 
Western  and  Southern  types  most  frequent  in  the 
regions  covered  by  the  youthful  actor's  theatrical  tours. 

Mr.  Jefferson  acquired  no  sectional  hobbies  in  the 
matter  of  dramatic  art,  and  apparently  no  prejudices 
against  any  particular  style  of  plays  except  bad  ones. 
While  his  first  thought  was  to  make  a  popular  bill,  it 
is  certain  that  he  would  with  difficulty  have  consented 
to  any  of  the  extraordinary  horse-play  which  has  been 
introduced  on  the  stage  to-day,  and  which  constitutes 


JOSEPH    JEFFERSON.  7 

a  veritable  assault  upon  dramatic  art.  The  stock  com- 
panies with  which  he  had  the  privilege  of  associating 
at  Southern  theatres  and  in  Philadelphia  would  not 
have  tolerated  any  tendency  to  what  the  French  call 
"the  over-charging  of  roles!'  Their  taste  was  still 
pure,  because  it  was  based  upon  a  genuine  reverence 
for  their  art,  and  a  love  for  all  its  noble  and  dignified 
traditions.  Ineffectiv^e  they  may  at  times  have  been  ; 
grotesque  now  and  then  because  of  some  failure  of 
scenic  resources  or  improper  rehearsal  ;  but  wilfully 
clownish,  never! 

The  invasion  of  the  domain  of  high  comedy  and 
melodrama  by  the  farce  and  the  bouffonncric  of  the 
country  fair  was  not  even  dreamed  of  when  Mr.  Joseph 
Jefferson,  a  young  actor  who  had  but  recently  attained 
his  majority,  was  engaged  to  act  "first  comedy"  under 
the  stage  management  of  Mr.  John  Gilbert,  at  the 
Chestnut-street  Theatre  in  Philadelphia.  It  was  there 
that  he  first  undertook  the  important  part  of  Doctor 
Pangloss,  which  has  since  been  a  source  of  delight  to 
hundreds  of  thousands  in  his  enthusiastic  audiences  ; 
and  the  picture  which  he  has  given  of  himself,  gravely 
taking  lessons  in  Latin  pronunciation  tiiat  he  might 
correctly  give  the  quotations  which  the  learned  doctor 
was  so  fond  of  retailing,  and  at  the  same  time  learning 
what  the  quotations  meant  in  the  vernacular,  is  at  once 
amusing  and  instructive  for  the  student  of  his  career. 

Although  his  originality  had  not  been  specially  noted 
it  the  time  of  his  Baltimore  engagement  in  1S53,  we 
may  be  sure  that  the  young  actor  who  held  his  own 
so  well  in  a  company  made  up  of  Wallacks,  Davenports, 
Murdochs,  Placides,  and  Adamses,  felt  his  own  power, 
ami  awaited  with  confidence  tiie  hour  of  its  public  rec- 


8  FAMOUS   AMERICAN   ACTORS   OF   TO-DAY. 

ognition.  The  actors  of  the  younger  generation,  as 
they  contemplate  with  astonishment  and  a  delight  with 
which  there  may  be  a  slight  blending  of  envy,  the  ease, 
polish,  and  wonderful  adornment  of  Mr.  Jefferson's 
various  roles  in  the  elder  comedy,  and  especially  the 
distinction  which  characterizes  even  the  smallest  of 
them,  must  reflect  sorrowfully  that  there  are  no  longer 
any  such  chances  for  learning  the  real  traditions  of  the 
roles  as  was  afforded  him.  What  they  learn  from  him 
will  be  clear  gain  of  artistic  advancement ;  but  let  them 
beware  of  original  conceptions  in  classical  comedy. 
Mr.  Jefferson  himself  has  left  it  on  record  that  it  is 
"dangerous  to  engraft  new  fashions  upon  old  forms." 

The  rising  actor  found  his  imagination  stimulated 
by  constant  meeting  with  capable  actors  in  good  resi- 
dent stock  companies.  As  the  painter  who  lives  in 
an  atmosphere  saturated  with  art,  where  the  pictu- 
resque is  to  be  found  at  every  street  corner,  and  the 
attrition  of  artistic  comradeship  abounds,  finds  a  con- 
stant and  unfailing  stimulus  which  he  would  miss  were 
he  to  go  to  more  prosaic  surroundings,  so  the  actor 
absorbed  from  a  hundred  minds  new  and  varying  views 
of  each  histrionic  effort.  What  a  vast  advantage  over 
the  career  of  the  rising  actor  of  to-day,  playing  one 
part  scores  and  scores  of  times  in  succession,  and  using 
up  his  energy  and  time  in  uncongenial  travel  between 
the  performances! 

In  his  twenty-eighth  year,  Mr.  Jefferson  was  engaged 
as  leading  comedian  at  Laura  Keene's  theatre  in  New 
York  City,  and  made  his  first  bow  on  the  western  side 
of  the  metropolis  in  "The  Heir-at-Law."  The  local 
critics  who  accused  him  on  the  morning  of  his  debut 
of  "gagging"  the  character  of  the  renowned  Dr.  Pan- 


JOSEPH    JEFFERSON.  9 

gloss  have  since  been  the  objects  of  the  actor's  atten- 
tion. Mr.  Jefferson  points  out  that  most  of  the  old 
comedies  are  "filled  with  traditional  introductions  good 
and  bad,"  and  that  a  dramatic  artist  is  as  much  at  lib- 
erty to  use  one  set  as  another.  He  further  implies  that 
the  critic  is  hardly  excusable  for  not  being  familiar  with 
the  te.\t  of  all  these  introductions  and  interpolations. 

Whatever  may  have  been  this  early  New  York  verdict 
on  Mr.  Jefferson's  Dr.  Pangloss,  there  was  nothing  but 
praise  from  the  great  majority  of  critics  and  auditors 
when  he  appeared  as  Asa  Trcnchard  in  "Our  American 
Cousin."  Tom  Taylor  certainly  struck  an  original 
note  in  the  play,  and  by  paying,  possibly,  an  uncon- 
scious homage  to  the  national  character,  gave  it  strong 
chances  for  popular  approval.  Yet  the  play  might  have 
slept  in  manuscript  until  this  day  had  not  a  fortunate 
accident  brought  it  to  the  attention  of  Laura  Kcene's 
business  manager,  who  read  it,  liked  it,  and  handed 
it  to  Mr.  Jefferson  for  his  verdict. 

Real  genius  generally  recognizes  its  opportunity,  and 
this  proved  true  in  the  case  of  Mr.  Jefferson.  He  tells 
us  that  it  was  the  chance  for  developing  the  attitude  of 
early  love,  for  impersonating  the  enthusiasm  and  gan- 
chcric  of  a  boyish  passion,  with  all  the  occasions  it 
would  give  for  refined  comical  effects,  that  first  at- 
tracted him  to  Asa  Trcnchard.  lint  it  is  probable 
tiiat  the  attraction  was  also  due  to  other  things,  —  and 
especially  to  his  recognition  of  his  own  possession  and 
mastery  of  all  the  details  necessary  for  clothing  Asa 
with  flesh  and  blood  and  with  abundant  Yankee  humor. 
The  man  awaited  the  revealing  role,  and  chance  placed 
the  revealing  role  \\\  his  hand. 

liut    Mr.    Jefferson    did    not    create   Asa   Trcnchard 


lO  KA.MOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAV. 

as  Mr.  Sothcrn  built  up  Lord  Dundreary,  and  as 
Frederic  Lemaitre,  long  before  him,  had  built  up 
Robert  Macaire  on  the  Paris  stage,  —  by  making  it 
an  eccentricity.  He  made  it  a  real  study  from  life, 
and  the  charmed  audiences  hailed  the  "  truth  to  na- 
ture "  with  tumultuous  applause.  I  can  think  of  no 
other  Yankee  type  so  ingenuous  and  interesting  in  our 
literature,  unless  it  be  the  half-forgotten  one  of  Israel 
Potter,  due  to  the  skilful  hand  of  the  late  Herman 
Melville.  Mr,  Jefferson's  fine  sense  of  art  appeared 
in  the  "  make  up  "  of  Asa,  as  well  as  in  the  masterly 
way  in  which  the  energetic  shrewdness  of  the  Yankee 
was  developed ;  and  the  swift  directness  of  the  love- 
scene  in  the  opening  of  the  last  act  has  served  as  a 
prototype  for  many  lesser  scenes,  handled  by  lesser 
actors,  for  nearly  a  generation  since  that  night  in 
Laura  Keene's  theatre. 

It  is  curious  that  in  this  play  Mr.  Jefferson  should 
have  found  a  situation  ready  to  his  hand  calculated  to 
bring  out  his  strong  qualities  of  fixing  the  attention  by 
a  kind  of  magnetic  emphasis.  It  is  that  in  which  he 
is  telling  the  English  girl  with  whom  he  is  in  love  the 
tale  of  his  uncle's  death  in  America.  While  relating 
the  story  he  asks  the  girl's  permission  to  light  a  cigar, 
and  does  in  fact  light  it  with  a  paper  taken  from  his 
pocket,  — his  uncle's  will,  made  in  his  favor,  and  disin- 
heriting the  girl.  The  amount  of  good  acting  neces- 
sary to  bring  the  fine  heroism  of  this  situation  home  to 
the  hearts  of  an  audience  can  be  appreciated  only  when 
one  has  seen  the  role  in  the  hands  of  an  incapable 
comedian.  Mr.  Jefferson's  magnetism  and  repose  in 
art  give  it  a  charm  and  fascination  which  no  one  else 
could  impart  to  it. 


JOSEPH    JEFFERSON.  I  I 

This  quality  of  charm  in  repose  —  I  mean  without 
any  makeshift  expedients  of  voice  or  gesture  —  is  so 
much  a  part  of  Mr.  Jefferson's  identity  that  it  is  no- 
ticeable off  the  stage  in  his  daily  intercourse  with  his 
friends.  This  is  not  usually  the  case  with  actors,  nor 
with  people  of  the  creative  temperament  in  letters  or 
in  art.  The  author  may  be  magnetic  in  his  books  and 
repellant  and  unsympathetic  in  his  conversation.  The 
lovely  enthusiasm  which  casts  a  halo  round  an  imper- 
sonation from  Shakespeare  may  have  vanished  at  the 
supper-table,  leaving  the  actor  cold  and  dark.  But  this 
could  never  be  true  of  Mr.  Jefferson,  the  delightful 
quaintness  of  whose  humor  alone  would  be  enough  to 
redeem  him  from  such  a  charge.  He  has  a  way  of 
investing  even  the  simplest  incidents  of  life  with  a 
whimsical  charm  and  grace  which  give  them  double 
value.  I  remember  hearing  him  tell,  at  a  breakfast 
party  in  Louisville,  some  years  ago,  a  little  story  of  his 
visit  to  a  learned  pig  at  a  country  fair.  Neither  of  the 
Coquelins  could  have  exceeded  him  in  the  quaintness 
of  the  plain  effects  by  which  he  brightened  his  story  ; 
and  the  climax,  when  assuming  his  grand  air  of  rejiose 
he  calmly  and  slowly  said,  "  I  assure  you  that  the  ani- 
mal could  read!  It — was — be-wil-dering  !  "  was  re- 
markable. The  mere  enunciation  of  the  words  served 
to  set  the  company  into  convulsions  of  laughter. 

After  a  brief  experience  of  "starring,"  into  which 
the  young  actor  had  been  tcmj)ted  by  his  success  as 
Asa  Trenchard,  and  by  the  gradual  rise  of  his  repu- 
tation for  the  la.st  ten  years,  Mr.  Jefferson  went  to  the 
New  Winter  Garden,  where  Dion  Houcicault  sat  en- 
throned upon  heaps  of  adaptations  from  foreign 
authors,  and  there  he  began  another  artistic  career  of 


12  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF    TO-DAY. 

great  merit.  It  was  there  that  he  gave  to  the  world 
his  impersonation  of  Caleb  Plummer,  in  the  play  of 
"Dot,"  or  "The  Cricket  on  the  Hearth." 

This  exquisite  creation,  so  beautiful  and  touching 
that  it  is  enough  of  itself  to  guarantee  an  actor's  fame, 
was  justly  regarded  as  a  far  more  convincing  proof 
of  Mr.  Jefferson's  greatness  than  Asa  Trenchard.  It 
was  conceived  in  a  mood  of  exalted  pathos,  and  so  high 
was  its  key  that  Boucicault  rudely  cautioned  the  young 
actor  against  having  "nothing  left  for  the  end  of  the 
play."  This  remark  indicates  that  the  veteran  adapter 
had  not  at  that  time  learned  to  appreciate  the  largeness 
of  Jefferson's  scope.  When  he  came  to  give  the  bene- 
fit of  his  experience  to  the  reconstruction  of  "  Rip  Van 
Winkle,"  years  afterwards,  in  London,  he  made  no 
such  remarks.  He  knew  then  that  he  was  in  the 
presence  of  a  master. 

Caleb  Plummer  had  been  an  experiment,  and  a 
daring  one,  for  an  actor  who  was  associated  in  the  pub- 
lic mind  with  comic  roles.  But  it  was  completely  suc- 
cessful. The  homely  and  tender  poetry  of  Caleb's 
character  touched  every  heart.  The  delicious  quaint- 
ness  of  the  rags  and  tatters,  the  inimitable  hitch  in  the 
walk,  the  clasped  hands,  the  appealing  looks,  the  quav- 
ering voice,  were  all  creations  ;  everything  was  new  ; 
nothing  was  vulgar  ;  the  glow  of  genius  was  over  the 
whole.  Here  was  Dickens's  eccentric  eloquence  upon 
the  stage,  but  to  it  was  added  the  nameless  — 

"Light  that  never  was  on  sea  or  land." 

A  long  Step  forward  had  been  taken.  The  actor 
who  can  make  the  public  laugh  with  him  enjoys  but  an 
uncertain  tenure  of  its  affections.     He  who  can  make 


JOSEPH    JEFFERSON.  13 

the  public  both  laugh  and  weep  has  hooked  it  to  him 
with  bands  of  steel.  M.  Got  as  the  old  servant  in 
"  La  Joic  Fait  Peur"  Mr.  Jefferson  as  Caleb  in  "The 
Cricket  on  the  Hearth,"  have  been  very  close  to  the 
hearts  of  the  playgoers  of  this  generation,  who  would 
not  thus  have  cherished  them  had  they  seen  them  only 
in  merrier  and  hollower  roles. 

Next  came  the  thoroughly  American  play  of  "  The 
Octoroon,"  which  at  the  time  of  its  production  was 
full  of  food  for  angry  discussion.  Boucicault  sketched 
in  masterly  outlines  the  characteristics  of  North  and 
South,  and  with  a  subtle  skill  for  which  he  has  never 
been  sufficiently  praised  he  painted  half  a  dozen  thor- 
oughly typical  Northern  and  Southern  characters.  If 
Salem  Scudder  lacked  the  rounded  ripeness,  the  con- 
summate grace,  the  Rembrandt-like  effects  of  light 
and  shade  to  be  found  in  Caleb  Plummer,  it  abounded 
in  manly  sentiment  delivered  with  caustic  humor,  in 
an  almost  pre-Raphaelitic  distinctness  of  sectional  por- 
trayal ;  and  a  grand  sympathetic  undertone  of  freedom 
ran  through  it.  In  point  of  minuteness  of  detail  it 
must  yield  to  many  other  characters  in  Mr.  Jefferson's 
repertory,  but  in  naturalness  it  yields  to  none.  Salem 
Scudder  might  be  a  townsman  of  the  mythical  author 
of  the  "  Biglow  Papers."  1 1  is  wit  is  as  sharp,  his  utter- 
ance of  it  as  sententious,  as  that  of  the  immortal  Hosea. 
The  actor  who  created  Salem  Scudder  is  gifted  with 
imagination  as  well  as  with  experience,  observation,  and 
originality. 

It  is  the  imaginative  tinge  in  Mr.  Jefferson's  tem- 
perament which  left  him  discontented  with  all  iv/cs 
in  which  he  appeared  until  he  stumbled  upon  "  Rip 
Van  Winkle."     I  use  the  word  stumbled  respcctlnlly  : 


14  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

the  accidental  perusal  of  Irving's  "Sketch-Book,"  while 
reposing  on  the  fragrant  hay  in  the  old  barn  in  Paradise 
Valley,  was  the  turning-point  in  the  actor's  life. 

The  image  of  the  quaint  Dutch-American  vagabond 
arose  in  his  mind  at  first  faint,  then  clear  and  distinct. 
There  is  no  finer  testimony  to  the  originality  of  his 
artistic  sense  than  is  to  be  found  in  the  fact  that  he 
borrowed  so  little  from  the  old  versions  of  the  plays 
of  "  Rip  Van  Winkle  "  which  had  been  acted  by  his 
father,  or  by  the  renowned  Hackett,  or  by  Burke.  And 
the  proof  that  the  image  of  Rip  sprang  into  his  mind 
with  that  spontaneous  quickness  which  marks  the  gen- 
esis of  all  immortal  artistic  creations,  is  to  be  found 
in  the  energetic  manner  in  which  Mr.  Jefferson  at  once 
went  to  work  to  build  up  Rip's  wardrobe  witiiout  iiav- 
ing  written  a  single  line  of  his  play.  He  looked  over 
the  old  dramatic  versions  of  the  weird  story,  and  re- 
jected all  that  gave  a  distinctly  melodramatic  tinge  to 
it.     Then  he  built  it  up,  bit  by  bit,  in  realistic  fashion. 

The  wonderful  force  of  the  impersonation  is  due  to 
the  adroit  manner  in  which  the  realistic  and  romantic 
are  contrasted.  Now  they  almost  meet  and  touch,  and 
the  spectators  hold  their  breaths  as  the  dusky  wing  of 
the  supernatural  appears  above  the  luminous  scene ; 
now  they  travel  on  parallel  lines,  and  now  stand  out 
in  full  relief,  opposed  to  each  other.  The  same  felici- 
tous skill  in  dealing  with  the  ghostly  and  unknown,  the 
same  recognition  of  human  limitations  even  in  presence 
of  the  superhuman  which  mark  Hamlet  as  the  work 
of  genius,  are  perceptible  in  the  reclothing  of  the  le- 
gendary vagabond  of  the  Hudson's  banks  with  flesh 
and  blood.     The  difference  is  only  in  degree. 

In  a  passage  in  "  The  Life  and  Letters  of  Washing- 


JOSEPH    JEFFERSON.  1 5 

ton  Irving,"  the  great  author  has  recorded  the  pleasure 
wliich  he  derived  from  seeing  Mr.  Jefferson  play  a  part 
in  one  of  the  old  comedies  at  Laura  Keene's  theatre ; 
and  he  mentioned  the  resemblance  of  the  young  actor 
to  his  father  in  look  and  gesture.  If  the  writer  of 
"The  Sketch-Book"  had  been  able  to  foresee  the  enor- 
mous popularity  which  a  simple  sketch  of  his  woukl 
receive,  thanks  to  the  exertions  of  that  young  actor, 
how  his  heart  would  have  throbbed  with  gratitude  and 
pride ! 

Mr.  Jefferson  has  told  us  that  his  aim  in  creating 
Rip  Van  Winkle  was  to  have  a  role  in  which  laughter 
and  tears  were  closely  allied,  and  he  hit  the  mark.  He 
hit  it  so  well  that  the  last  scenes  of  the  play  might  be 
acted  in  pantomime  before  foreign  audiences  and  the 
result  would  be  the  same,  —  the  people  would  laugh  and 
weep  with  him.  It  is  not  strange  that,  having  found 
this  role  so  perfectly  adapted  for  producing  the  effects 
best  suited  to  his  genius,  he  should  have  clung  to  it  for 
years,  to  the  exclusion  of  others,  and  should  have  carried 
it  triumphantly  around  the  world. 

Yet  the  actor  had  not  infused  into  the  first  draft  of 
his  play  quite  enough  of  the  purely  human,  as  con- 
trasted with  the  superhuman,  interest  ;  and  his  first 
performance  of  the  role  in  Washington  told  him  so. 
The  audiences  were  delighted,  but  the  actor  still  sighed 
for  something  to  make  the  j:)icture  comiilete.  This  was 
furnished  him  by  the  skilful  hand  of  Dion  Houcicault, 
when,  in  1865,  Mr.  Jefferson  arrived  in  London  from 
Australia,  and  determined  to  introduce  Rip  and  himself 
at  the  same  time  to  Knglish  audiences. 

The  Royal  Adelphi  swung  the  door  wide  open  to 
receive   him.     On   Sei)t.    30,    1865,  Mr.  Jefferson,  who 


1 6  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

had  been  nearly  five  years  away  from  home,  in  Austra- 
lia and  in  long  sea  voyages,  brought  out  a  new  and 
improved  version  of  the  play.  The  success  was  in- 
stantaneous. London  furnished  sympathetic  audiences 
for  one  hundred  and  seventy  nights  in  succession 
before  "  Rip  Van  Winkle  "  was  withdrawn  from  the 
boards. 

In  England  the  illusion  of  the  theatre  is  still  more 
powerful,  especially  with  the  middle  and  lower  classes, 
than  in  this  country.  People  give  themselves  freely 
to  laughter  and  tears ;  they  hiss  the  villains,  applaud 
the  display  of  virtue,  and  are  ready  to  lend  a  hand  in 
defence  of  the  innocent  and  oppressed.  For  Rip  Van 
Winkle  their  sympathies  were  so  thoroughly  aroused 
that  when,  in  the  closing  scenes,  their  imaginations  were 
e.xcited  by  the  spectacle  of  the  sublime  old  vagabond  — 
victim  of  the  dark  sorcery  of  the  spirits  of  the  moun- 
tains—  struggling  out  from  his  enchanted  sleep,  and 
returning,  like  a  dead  man  from  his  grave,  among  the 
living,  they  burst  into  passionate  weeping.  No  grander 
triumph  was  ever  achieved  by  an  American  actor  than 
by  Mr.  Jefferson  during  the  London  run  of  "  Rip  Van 
Winkle." 

I  once  asked  a  distinguished  French  critic  what  he 
thought  of  Mr.  Henry  Irving.  He  answered  that  Ir- 
ving got  effects  which  were  quite  unknown  on  the 
French  stage  by  his  eloquent  silences,  and  by  the  im- 
pressive manner  in  which  he  "posed"  in  an  attitude. 
He  said  that  he  had  been  particularly  struck  with  this 
quality  in  "  Louis  the  Eleventh."  Mr.  Jefferson  has 
even  in  greater  degree  than  Mr.  Irving,  and  without 
any  of  the  latter's  mannerisms,  this  faculty  of  impress- 
ing an  audience  by  his  simple  attitude,  without  uttering 


JOSEPH    JEFFERSON.  1 7 

a  work  or  making  a  gesture.      It  would  be  easy  to  cite 
a  dozen  cases  of  this  kind  from  "  Rip  Van  Winkle." 

It  is  by  his  purely  American  creations  that  Mr.  Jeffer- 
son's claim  to  lasting  fame  is  established.  Sprightly 
as  he  may  be  in  the  elder  comedy,  we  enjoy  far  less 
the  spectacle  of  his  appearance  in  a  play  by  Sheridan, 
which  he  has  ventured  to  curtail  to  suit  modern  notions 
of  theatre-going,  than  in  those  roles  peculiarly  his  own. 
It  is  not  without  regret,  too,  that  we  reflect  on  the 
priceless  services  to  dramatic  art  which  he  might  have 
rendered  had  he  been  surrounded  by  a  brilliant  stock 
company,  and  permanently  engaged  at  one  metropolitan 
theatre  for  the  last  twenty  years.  But  it  is  idle  to  cavil 
at  a  lack  for  which  the  recent  organization  of  theatrical 
business  is  alone  responsible. 

The  gracious  personality  of  Joseph  Jefferson  is  held 
in  highest  respect  by  all  Americans.  The  shrewd  and 
comely  face  lighted  by  keen  humorous  eyes,  the  form 
still  alert  although  years  weigh  on  it,  the  sympathetic 
voice,  the  magnetic  look  of  the  great  actor,  are  in  the 
memories  of  millions.  And  whether  he  is  reposing 
in  his  lu.xurious  home  among  the  moss-hung  live  oaks 
of  Louisiana,  or  breathing  the  salt  breeze  on  the  Massa- 
chusetts coast,  or  making  a  professional  tour  westward, 
he  is  always  surrounded  by  friends  who  respect  his 
genius,  and  are  grateful  for  its  many  manifestations, 
and  for  the  honor  which  it  bestows  uj^jn  the  American 
stage. 


MIVIE.    JANAUSCHEK. 

By  Philip  Hale. 


Fkancesca  Romana  Magdalena  Janauschek  was 
born  at  Prague,  July  20,  1830.  She  was  the  fourth  of 
nine  children  of  pure  Czech  blood.  They  say  in  envious 
Prussia  that  the  Bohemian  father  always  hesitates  in 
determining  the  profession  of  his  child  —  whether  to 
educate  it  as  a  musician  or  a  thief.  Janauschek  at 
first  studied  the  piano,  intending  to  be  a  virtuoso. 
An  accident  to  her  hand  checked  this  career ;  and,  as 
she  had  a  mezzo-soprano  voice  that  promised  success, 
she  prepared  herself  for  opera  at  the  Prague  Conser- 
vatory. A  professor  of  dramatic  action  persuaded  her 
to  study  for  the  stage  as  a  play -actress.  She  was 
about  sixteen  years  of  age  when  she  made  her  debut 
at  Prague  as  Caroline  in  the  comedy  "  Ich  bleibe 
Ledig."  She  soon  afterward  appeared  in  a  modest 
way  at  the  theatres  of  Chemnitz,  Heilbronn,  and 
other  small  towns.  She  was  a  member  of  a  travelling 
company.  She  succeeded  at  Cologne  ;  and  finally,  at  the 
age  of  eighteen,  she  was  engaged  as  leading  woman  at 
the  Stadt  Theatre,  Frankfort,  where  she  remained  ten 
years,  playing  in  the  pieces  of  the  classic  repertory.  A 
dazzling  star,  she  blazed  triumphantly  in  other  cities  of 
Germany,  as  at  Munich,  where  she  was  engaged  for 

18 


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MME.    JANAUSCHEK. 


MME.    JANAUSCHEK.  1 9 

four  months  by  the  mad  King  of  Bavaria,  who  honored 
her  by  praise  and  royal  gifts.  In  Austria  and  in  Rus- 
sia her  triumphs  were  repeated. 

After  Janauschek.  had  finished  an  engagement  at  the 
Royal  Theatre,  Dresden,  she  came  to  the  United  States  ; 
and  she  made  her  first  appearance  here  in  New  York, 
at  the  Academy  of  Music,  under  the  management  of 
Max  Maretzek,  Oct.  9,  1867.  She  made  her  American 
di'but  as  Medea,  and  in  German  ;  for,  although  she  then 
spoke  several  languages,  she  did  not  learn  English 
until  the  season  of  1 873-1 874.  From  New  York  she 
went  to  other  American  cities.  Her  repertory  included, 
among  other  plays,  "Medea,"  "Marie  Stuart,"  "Deb- 
orah," "  Gretchen,"  "  Egmont,"  "  Don  Carlos,"  "Cabale 
und  Liebe,"  "  Braut  von  Messina,"  "The  Gladiator  of 
Ravenna."  During  her  first  season  in  this  country  she 
ajipeared  in  polyglot  performances,  playing,  in  German, 
Lady  Macbeth  to  Booth's  Macbeth,  while  the  other 
members  of  the  company  spoke  English.  At  that  time 
her  repertory  was  almost  wholly  classical  ;  yet  she 
never  appeared  in  this  country  in  parts  that  she  con- 
sidered her  best,  for  she  did  not  believe  that  such  plays 
would  interest  American  audiences. 

During  the  season  of  1873-1874  Janauschek  j^layed, 
speaking  the  English  language.  She  at  first  was  seen 
as  Deborah,  Medea,  Marie  Stuart,  Briinnhilde.  Her 
success  was  so  great  that  she  determined  to  make 
America  her  home.  Her  repertory  increased.  She 
added  "Winter's  Tale,"  "Henry  VH  I.,"  "  Marie  Antoi- 
nette," "Woman  in  Red,"  "Adrienne  Lecouvreur," 
"  Mother  and  Son."  She  appeared  also  as  Meg  Mer- 
rilies ;  but  she  regarded  the  playing  this  part  as  a 
business    mistake,  because  she   allowed  herself   to  be 


20  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAV. 

identified  with  the  part,  and  thus  gave  the  public  the 
idea  that  she  was  really  a  very  old  woman.  Perhaps 
this  belief  was  an  exhibition  of  super-sensitiveness. 
To  the  mass  of  theatre-goers  she  was  the  most  popu- 
lar in  the  dual  role  of  Lady  Dedlock  and  Hortense  in 
"Bleak  House,"  or  "  Chesney  Wold"  as  she  first  called 
the  play.  To  the  critics  she  appeared  to  even  fuller 
advantage  in  "Briinnhilde"  and  "Come  Here."  She 
reached  her  zenith  about  1887  as  l^riinnhilde. 

Janauschek  produced  these  plays  in  America :  "  My 
Life,"  by  Harry  Meredith  ;  "  The  Harvest  Moon  ; " 
and  "The  Doctor  of.  Lima,"  by  Salmi  Morse.  She 
has  lectured  on  the  drama ;  she  has  given  readings  ; 
she  was  chairman  of  the  drama  committee  at  the  Pro- 
fessional Woman's  League.  Always  an  earnest  student 
of  everything  pertaining  to  her  art,  she  collected  books 
relating  to  the  stage. 

Her  latest  appearance  on  the  stage  (1895-1896)  was 
in  "The  Great  Diamond  Robbery,"  in  which  melo- 
drama the  breadth  and  the  dignity  of  her  art  ennobled 
a  part  that  other  actresses  would  deem  unworthy  of 
their  attention. 

This  is  the  bald  and  imperfect  sketch  of  a  stage 
career  of  nearly  fifty  years.  I  do  not  even  vouch  for 
complete  accuracy,  as  there  are  conflicting  statements 
in  carefully  recorded  interviews  with  the  actress  her- 
self. To  verify  the  alleged  facts  concerning  her  first 
years  would  be  almost  an  impossible  task ;  for  the 
records  are  loose,  or  beyond  recovery.  Even  in  this 
country,  where  theatres  are  so  frequented,  where  so 
much  attention  is  given  to  dramatic  affairs  by  the 
newspapers,  there  is  no  authentic  record  of  the  history 


MME.    JANAUSCHEK.  21 

of  the  stage,  though  local  records  have  been  kept  by 
amateurs  in  certain  cities.  It  is  strange  that  no  one 
has  done  publicly  for  New  York  or  Boston  what  Noel 
and  Stoullig  have  done  for  Paris  since  1875.  The 
historian  of  the  future  will  find  the  task  still  harder; 
for  in  many  instances  he  will  be  unable  to  discriminate 
between  the  romantic  weavings  of  the  press  agent  and 
the  actual  facts.  Actors  as  well  as  singers  are  notori- 
ously careless  as  to  dates  of  birth,  debuts,  creations ; 
and  many  autobiographers  are  notoriously  neglectful  of 
important  dates,  or  positively  inaccurate  in  statements 
concerning  year  and  place. 


Janauschek  struck  the  key-note  oi  her  art  when 
she  said  to  a  friend  who  commented  on  her  play- 
ing the  part  of  the  receiver  of  stolen  goods  in  "The 
Great  Diamond  Robbery,"  "  Every  time  I  go  on  that 
stage  I  take  all  my  past  reputation  in  my  hand." 
This  sincerity  and  this  artistic  pride  have  character- 
ized her  long  and  honorable  career. 

In  her  youth  Janauschek  enjoyed  the  inestimable 
advantage  of  drill  in  routine  work,  which  is  regarded 
as  drudgery  by  the  inspired,  who  in  these  days  jump 
upon  the  stage  tii rough  caprice,  or,  bored  by  social 
duties,  led  by  personal  vanity,  influenced  by  domestic 
unhaj)piness,  say  to  themselves,  "Come,  now,  I'll  be 
an  actress  ;  it  is  true  I  have  never  studieii  the  rudi- 
ments of  art,  but  experience  is  the  great  master." 
After  instruction  in  the  school,  she  began  practically 
in  humble  parts.  She  was  in  stock  companies,  where 
the  carefully  drilled  cnsanble,  not  the  brilliancy  of  a 
star  accentuated  by  the  feeble  twinkling  or  the  dark- 


2  2  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO— DAY. 

ness  of  the  surroundings,  was  the  attraction.  Thus 
did  she  learn  the  lessons  that  are  only  acquired  in  a 
stock  company ;  and  it  is  no  wonder  that  in  the  course 
of  rather  pessimistic  remarks  concerning  the  future  of 
the  American  stage,  she  said  lately,  "  Since  the  de- 
struction of  the  stock  company,  there  is  no  school  for 
the  education  of  actors." 

Brought  up  in  an  atmosphere  of  art,  where  classic 
models  were  reversed,  where  trash  was  flouted  by  man- 
agers as  well  as  by  audiences,  it  is  not  surprising  to 
find  her  in  this  country  protesting  against  the  majority 
of  the  theatrical  productions  of  the  past  dozen  years, 
productions,  to  use  her  own  words,  "  crowded  with  only 
frivolity  and  shallowness,  absurdity  and  foolishness, 
stupidity  and  giddiness,  and  any  amount  of  vulgarity  ; 
void  of  all  natural  sentiment  and  ideal  perception,  void 
of  high  and  noble  principles,  void  of  all  and  every 
poetical  fancy.  'The  public  must  be  amused'  is  the 
cry  of  the  theatrical  manager.  'The  public  should  be 
instructed  and  elevated,  and  can  be  amused,'  is  the  cry 
of  the  artist." 

It  is  true  that  Nature  planned  her  for  heroic  parts. 
Her  voice,  that  might  have  adorned  the  opera  house, 
was  the  noble  instrument  that  lent  itself  to  all  emo- 
tions. To  the  thoughtful  critic  one  of  her  chief 
triumphs  was  obtained  solely  by  the  varying  intona- 
tions in  "  Come  Here."  It  is  said  of  her,  as  it  was 
said  of  a  distinguished  American  actor,  that  her  reci- 
tation of  the  Lord's  Prayer  is  a  marvel  of  elocution, 
and  that  even  in  Czech  the  effect  on  a  hearer  un- 
acquainted with  the  language  is  overwhelming. 

The  noble  expressiveness  of  her  face,  the  stateliness 
of  her  figure,  the  sense  of  reserve  strength  in  repose, 


MME.    JANAUSCHEK. 


-J 


the  grace  and  the  intensity  of  her  gesture,  —  these 
were  natural  gifts,  enlarged  by  training,  controlled  by 
artistic  intelligence.  An  heroic  woman,  suggesting 
primeval  emotions ;  titanic  in  bursts  of  passion. 

Briinnhilde  is  now  a  well-known  character  to  opera- 
goers,  and  several  distinguished  dramatic  singers  have 
played  in  this  country  the  heroine  of  the  Nibelungen 
Trilogy;  but  with  the  aid  of  Wagner's  Music  it  is 
doubtful  whether  any  one  of  them  equalled  in  tragic 
force  the  memorable  performance  of  Janauschek.  The 
Briinnhilde  of  the  play  is  the  Briinnhilde  of  "  Gotter- 
dammerung,"  —  the  deceived,  outraged,  jealous  wife, 
who  meditates  and  carries  out  dire  vengeance.  She  is 
a  plaything  of  Fate,  as  Jocasta,  or  Medea,  or  Iphigenia, 
or  any  tragic  figure  of  antique  drama.  There  was  a 
marvellous  vitality  in  the  performance  of  Janauschek ; 
there  was  something  more  than  an  impersonation ; 
there  was  utter  forgetfulness  of  the  assumption  of  a 
part :  Briinnhilde  herself  emerged  from  the  forest,  and 
among  wild  people  loved  and  hated  fiercely. 

Her  versatility  was  shown  in  concentrated  form  in 
"Chesney  Wold,"  where,  as  the  coquettishly  sensual, 
maliciously  sly,  vitriolicaliy  minded  French  maid,  she 
alternated  with  the  cold,  haughty,  arrogant  Lady  Ded- 
lock,  who,  in  spite  of  her  caste  and  pride,  had  known 
passion,  and  shame  as  the  reward  of  passic^i.  The 
question  here  is  not  one  of  psychological  triitli  ; 
whether,  for  instance,  such  a  character  as  Hortense 
ever  existed.  The  question  is  this.  Given  the  prem- 
ises, what  were  the  dramatic  conclusions  arrived  at  by 
Janauschek  ?  That  which  in  itself  was  tawdry  and 
melodramatic  was  heightened  by  temperament  in  the 
sane  control  of  art. 


24  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACIORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

For  in  Janauschek  is  the  rare  combination  of  tem- 
perament working  harmoniously  and  generously  with 
art,  to  the  glorification  of  each.  Temperament  is  in- 
dispensable, beyond  price,  beyond  the  attainment  of 
art ;  but  let  temperament  run  riot,  and  there  are  in  a 
performance  a  few  great  native  moments,  with  dreary 
half-hours  of  commonplace  and  crudity.  For  tempera- 
ment alone  sees  only  a  few  points  that  interest,  and  to 
these  points  all  else  is  sacrificed  ;  or  it  is  better  to  say 
that  when  nothing  appeals  to  temperament,  then  there 
must  be  a  Macedonian  cry  to  art.  Now,  a  woman  like 
Janauschek  in  the  detail  always  holds  the  attention 
by  reason  of  her  art.  The  hearer  is  conscious  of  the 
approach  of  great  moments ;  the  crescendo  on  the 
stage  is  synchronous  with  the  crescendo  of  interest 
in  the  pit ;  there  is  no  sudden,  unexpected  appeal  that 
misses  fire  ;  art  and  temperament  together  enchain  the 
audience,  and  prepare  for  the  final  climax,  which,  when 
it  comes,  comes  as  though  inevitably,  and  with  irre- 
sistible force. 

Here  is  a  woman  that  is  the  last  of  the  actresses  of 
"  the  grand  style."  There  are  highly  endowed  women 
now  upon  the  stage,  —  actresses  of  finesse,  actresses  of 
realistic  force,  actresses  of  neurotic  feeling  that  inspire 
morbid  interest  by  morbid  treatment  of  morbid  sub- 
jects. These  women  are  artists  in  their  respective 
ways.  But  there  is  no  one  to  be  compared  now  to 
Janauschek  in  the  breadth  and  the  finish,  the  nobility 
and  the  sweep,  of  her  art.  False  realism  has  brought 
with  it  false  and  cheap  acting.  A  hero  talks  with  his 
hands  in  his  pockets  for  a  half-hour,  and  is  praised 
chiefly  because  he  acts  just  as  he  would  carry  himself 
at  a  club.     In  many  ways  there  has  been  a  shrinkage 


MME.    JANAUSCHEK.  25 

in  artistic  values.  How  petty  all  the  jin-de-sikle  hys- 
teria, the  cocotte  sentimentalism,  the  stage  debate 
between  duty  to  a  nagging  husband  and  the  idea  of 
separate  womanly  dignity  in  a  profession,  seem  in  the 
presence  of  deserted  Medea,  or  Brunnhilde  treacher- 
ously abused  !  And  yet  the  audience  seems  impatient 
of  the  older  art ;  and  it  forgets  the  goddesses  of  the 
older  art  to  whom  it  once  bowed  the  knee,  and  before 
whom  it  swung  the  censer. 

This  country  owes  a  mighty  debt  to  Janauschek,  for 
her  influence  has  been  steadily  and  courageously  for 
that  which  is  pure  and  noble  and  uplifting.  Perhaps 
the  best  and  final  tribute  to  this  woman,  who  now  looks 
back  over  a  career  untarnished  by  any  cheap  device  to 
gain  popular  favor,  or  any  eagerness  to  set  applause- 
traps,  is  this  sentence  of  golden  praise  from  Professor 
James  Mills  Pierce  :  — 

"  She  is  one  of  the  few  actors  I  have  seen  in  my 
time  who  have  thoroughly  known  how  to  unite  the 
most  intense  truth  of  feeling  with  nobleness  of  form 
and  perfect  training ;  to  infuse  into  the  simplicity, 
exactitude,  and  moderation  of  the  realistic  school  the 
divine  fire  of  genius."  And  many  will  say  with  him  : 
"  I  shall  always  look  back  on  some  of  the  occasions  on 
which  I  have  seen  her  as  among  those  which  afforded 
my  fullest  glimpses  of  the  possible  greatness  of  the 
stage." 


EDWIN    BOOTH, 

By  Henry  A.  Clapp. 


The  keen  sense  of  loss  which  has  come  to  the 
American  people  because  of  the  death  of  Edwin  Booth 
may  well  be  shared  by  all  the  English-speaking  com- 
munities of  the  world.  If  Mr.  Irving  be  left  out  of 
view,  it  is  plain  that  for  many  years  Mr.  Booth  has 
had  no  rival  as  a  tragedian  among  those  actors  who  use 
our  language  ;  and  it  is  equally  plain  that  there  is  to- 
day not  even  a  candidate  for  his  vacant  place. 

As  for  Mr.  Irving,  it  is  fair  to  say  that  neither  his 
career  nor  his  success  has  been  precisely  upon  the 
plane  of  Mr.  Booth's.  By  turns  a  comedian,  a  player 
of  melodrama,  an  attempter  of  tragedy,  and  a  master 
of  farce,  Mr.  Irving,  in  his  picturesque  and  versatile 
talents,.has  ever  displayed  an  eccentric  quality  of  which 
there  was  not  a  trace  in  the  American  performer.  Mr. 
Booth  will  be  remembered  as  a  classic  tragedian  ;  while 
it  is  more  than  probable  that  Mr.  Irving's  Louis  XL, 
Mathias,  and  Dubosc  will  be  recalled  when  his  Hamlet 
and  King  Lear  have  quite  slipped  out  of  general  recol- 
lection. 

The  student  of  the  history  of  the  English  .stage  will 

Note.  —  This  essay  originally  appeared  in  the  Atlantic  Monthly  of  Septem- 
ber, 1893. 

26 


EDWIN    BOOTH    AS    HAMLET. 


EDWIN    BOOTH.  27 

not  find,  outside  of  the  Kemble  and  Kean  families,  a 
person  whose  equipment  would  vie  with  that  of  Edwin 
Booth  ;  including  within  the  word  "equipment  "  all  that 
may  be  reasonably  expected  from  tradition,  heredity, 
and  surroundings  in  early  life,  Mr.  Booth  inherited 
from  his  father,  Junius  Brutus  Booth,  —  an  actor  ac- 
counted by  many  competent  critics  the  greatest  of  his 
brilliant  period,  — a  definite  bent  and  a  full  gift.  He 
was  born  to  the  buskin  as  truly  as  Edward  III.  was 
born  to  the  royal  purple ;  in  his  infancy  and  youth  he 
breathed  the  atmosphere  of  the  stage,  and  histrionic 
traditions  and  aptitudes  came  to  him  as  a  part  of  his 
birthright.  Edwin  was  undoubtedly  inferior  to  his 
father  in  that  plasticity  which  may  be  cultivated,  but 
cannot  be  acquired  ;  yet  his  temperament  was  admi- 
rably well  adapted  to  the  needs  of  his  craft,  and  espe- 
cially of  that  department  of  the  actor's  art  to  which, 
after  a  little  experimenting  at  the  outset  of  his  pro- 
fessional life,  he  wholly  devoted  himself.  In  Mr. 
Booth's  nature  there  was  a  remarkable  combination  of 
sensibility,  thoughtfulness,  power,  and  reserve.  His 
intellect  was  vigorous,  intuitive,  and  singularly  lucid. 
Physically  he  was  nobly  equippetl  for  his  work  :  with  a 
voice  of  exceptional  purity,  range,  and  carrying  power ; 
with  a  figure  of  medium  height  and  size,  but  well 
knit  and  proportioned  ;  and  with  a  mobile  face,  finely, 
almost  faultlessly,  chiselled,  lighted  by  dark  eyes  of  ex- 
traordinary brilliancy  and  depth,  and  marked  in  repose 
by  a  cold  but  highly  distinguished  beauty.  The  his- 
trionic art  has  ever  been  a  jealous  mistress  to  her 
followers  ;  and  no  class  of  professional  men  and  women 
are,  as  a  rule,  so  completely  absorbed  by  their  work  as 
are  actors  and  actresses.     In  this  respect  Mr.   Booth 


28  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO— DAY 

surpassed  even  the  custom  of  his  class.  For  forty 
years  all  his  strength  and  industry,  all  his  powers  and 
parts,  were  concentrated  upon  the  study  and  practice 
of  his  art.  Ambition  to  excel  and  to  shine  was  of 
course  one  of  the  feeders  of  the  zeal  which  burned 
with  such  a  pure  and  steady  flame ;  but  it  was  only 
one.  He  was  an  actor  as  Shelley  was  a  poet,  Raphael 
a  painter,  Mozart  a  musician,  —  an  actor  by  every  in- 
stinct of  his  nature,  by  the  impulse  of  every  drop  of 
his  blood.  It  may  well  be  believed  that  what  is  called 
"society"  lost  much  by  his  seclusion;  but  the  social 
or  unsocial  habit  of  such  an  artist  is  not  to  be  criticised. 
He  knew  what  he  had  to  do,  and  how  best  or  only  he 
could  do  it  ;  and  through  his  fidelity  to  the  law  derived 
from  that  knowledge  he  wrought  not  only  to  his  own 
best  advantage,  but  to  that  of  the  entire  community 
and  nation. 

Mr.  Booth's  peculiar  quality  as  a  player  was  the  nat- 
ural product  of  his  endowment  and  mode  of  life.  As 
an  artist  he  lived  an  ideal  existence.  He  was  too 
quick  and  keen  not  to  profit  by  his  inevitable  contacts 
with  men  ;  but  assiduous  reading,  study,  and  toil  in  the 
closet  or  on  the  stage,  supplied  both  the  substance  and 
the  color  of  his  performance.  In  a  man  less  richly 
endowed  by  nature  such  a  life  might  have  brought 
forth  but  barrenly  ;  with  Mr.  Booth  it  seemed  to  be 
the  condition  of  his  most  fruitful  achievement.  Well 
has  the  artist  lived  whose  hours  have  been  spent  in 
lofty  intimacy  with  the  great  poets  and  dramatists  ; 
and  so  it  was  well  with  our  tragedian.  His  habits  and 
associations  were  at  once  the  consequence  and  the 
cause  of  his  artistic  temper.  Under  the  guidance  of 
the  chosen  companions  of  his  life,  he  became  incapable 


EDWIN    BOOTH.  29 

of  vulgarity  ;  and  as  a  player  he  became  the  shining 
exponent  of  that  school  of  acting  whose  chief  charac- 
teristic and  distinction  is  ideality. 

All  that  was  corporeal  of  the  artist  fitted  well  to  his 
fine  spiritual  conditions.  Some  of  my  readers  can 
recall  his  first  appearance  as  a  leading  player  at  the 
Boston  Theatre  thirty-six  years  ago,  and  will  remember 
that,  like  all  other  artists,  he  had  his  early  faults  and 
crudities  of  method  ;  but  the  process  of  correcting  and 
ripening  was  rapid,  and  for  a  quarter  of  a  century  or 
more  Mr.  Booth  was  recognized  as  the  best  accom- 
plished actor  of  our  stage.  Free  and  graceful  in  mo- 
tion, with  carriage  and  step  which  lent  themselves  with 
equal  and  perfect  ease  to  the  panther  footfall  of  lago, 
the  dignified  alertness  of  Macbeth,  and  the  stately 
progress  of  Othello ;  with  a  beautiful  face  whose  mask 
was  as  wax  under  the  moulding  fingers  of  passion  ; 
with  a  voice  whose  peculiar  vibrant  quality  had  an 
extraordinary  power  to  stir  the  soul  of  the  listener  at 
the  very  moment  of  its  appeal  as  music  to  the  ear,  — 
all  of  Edwin  Booth  that  was,  in  the  choice  phrase  of 
Shakespeare,  "out  of  door,"  was  "most  rich."  And, 
without  unduly  exalting  the  mere  material  of  his  art,  it 
is  worth  while  to  dwell  for  a  moment  upon  the  service 
which  he  con.stantly  rendered  to  the  ever-imperilled 
cause  of  pure  and  elegant  speech.  "  Orators,"  teachers, 
preachers,  many  actors,  —  some  in  one  way,  some  in 
another,  and  some  in  nearly  every  conceivalile  way,  — 
set  the  example  of  bad  utterance  of  our  language.  Mr. 
Booth's  tongue  might  well  in  its  kind  have  secured  for 
him  the  praise  which  Chaucer's  pen  won  for  the  first 
great  English  poet;  for  in  his  speech  he  was  a  "well 
of     English    undefiletl,"     reviving    and    reficshing    the 


30  FAMOUS   AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

ancient  tradition,  which  is  now  dying  of  inanition  on 
English  and  American  soil,  —  that  the  stage  is  the  nat- 
ural guardian  of  the  nation's  orthoepy.  A  faultless 
pronunciation,  an  enunciation  distinct,  clean,  and  clear, 
without  formalism  or  apparent  effort,  an  exquisite  feel- 
ing for  the  sweetness  of  words,  and  a  perfect  sense  of 
their  relation  to  one  another,  united  to  give  to  his 
delivery  exemplary  distinction,  and  to  make  it  a  model 
and  a  standard.  And,  at  a  moment  when  the  art  seems 
almost  to  be  lost  to  our  theatre,'  one  must  recur  with 
melancholy  pleasure  to  his  mastery  of  the  noble  art 
of  reciting  English  blank  verse.  The  vast  majority  of 
our  players  helplessly  and  hopelessly  stumble  jiowa- 
days  in  the  attempt  to  interpret  Shakespeare's  lines  : 
if  they  essay  the  rhythm,  the  meaning  suffers  a  kind 
of  smooth  asphyxiation  at  their  hands  ;  if  they  devote 
themselves  to  the  thought,  the  verse  degenerates  into 
a  queer  variety  of  h itchy  prose.  Mr.  Booth  at  no 
point  of  his  career  seemed  to  find  any  serious  difficulty 
in  putting  into  practice  the  theory  to  which  all  the 
great  actors  and  critics  before  his  day  had  subscribed, 
—  that  in  Shakespeare's  blank  verse  sound  and  sense 
are  as  a  rule  so  vitally  united  that  what  makes  for  the 
life  of  the  one  conduces  to  the  life  of  the  other;  or, 
rather,  that  the  master  poet  uses  the  melody  and  the 
flow  of  his  measure  as  an  implement  in  the  expression 
of  the  idea  or  the  emotion,  almost  as  if  he  were  a  com- 
poser of  music,  employing  words  in  lieu  of  tones. 

It  is  understood  that  no  one  can  achieve  high  suc- 
cess as  an  actor  who  is  not  a  master  of  the  art  of 
elocution,  using  the  word  "  elocution  "  in  its  amplest 
sense.  Such  a  master  was  Edwin  Booth.  Very  few  of 
our  players  are  capable  of  dealing  as  he  dealt  with  a 


EDWIN    BOOTH.  3  I 

difficult  text,  in  such  a  fashion  as  will  keep  that  per- 
fect relation  of  word  to  word,  and  clause  to  clause,  by 
intonation,  cadence,  breathing,  pause,  and  emphasis, 
which  shall  convey  to  the  ear  and  mind  of  the  lis- 
tener the  thoughts  of  the  dramatist  in  all  their  fulness, 
power,  beauty,  and  just  proportion.  A  definite  touch 
here  and  a  slurring  there,  a  firm  grasp  of  one  end  of 
this  phrase  and  of  the  other  end  of  that,  a  scramble 
or  rush  toward  the  close,  coupled  with  an  attempt  "to 
make  a  point,"  —  that  is  a  fair  account  of  all  that  the 
commonplace  actor  ever  attempts  in  dealing  with  long 
poetical  or  declamatory  passages.  Clever  old  Colley 
Cibber  had  upon  this  theme  a  word  which,  indicating 
the  magnitude  and  delicacy  of  the  player's  task,  will 
help  us  to  distinguish  the  inferior  histrionic  artist  in 
this  kind  from  the  superior:  "In  the  just  delivery  of 
poetical  numbers,  particularly  where  the  sentiments  are 
pathetic,  it  is  scarce  credible  upon  how  minute  an  ar- 
ticle of  sound  depends  their  greatest  beauty  and  effect. 
The  voice  of  a  singer  is  not  more  strictly  ty'd  to  Time 
and  Tune  than  that  of  an  actor  in  theatrical  elocution. 
The  least  syllabic  too  long  or  too  slightly  dwelt  upon 
in  a  period,  depreciates  it  to  nothing,  which  very  syl- 
lable, if  rightly  touched,  shall,  like  the  heightening 
stroke  of  light  from  a  master's  pencil,  give  life  and 
spirit  to  the  whole." 

Nearly  all  great  actors  experiment  with  a  variety  of 
parts  early  in  their  professional  lives  ;  and  some  players 
continue  the  experimenting  process  through  their  en- 
tire careers,  though  the  general  tendency  of  middle  and 
later  age  is  of  course  toward  the  stability  of  repetition. 
In  his  first  years  Ujion  the  stage,  Mr.  Hooth  was  mod- 
erately tentative,  but  soon  settled  himself  to  an  almost 


32  FAMOUS   AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

Steady  presentation  of  what  may  be  called  the  classical 
characters  of  the  En<^lish  theatre.  In  his  repertory 
were  all  the  first  men's  parts  in  the  chief  tragedies  of 
Shakespeare,  except  Timon,  Posthumus,  Coriolanus, 
and  the  Antony  of  "  Antony  and  Cleopatra  ;  "  and  also 
Shylock,  Benedick,  and  Petruchio  in  the  maimed  one- 
act  summary  of  "  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew."  In  the 
histories,  he  played  Gloster,  —  both  in  the  familiar 
Colley  Cibbcr  perversion  of  "  Richard  III.,"  and  in  the 
excellent  acting  version  of  Shakespeare's  play  prepared 
for  him  by  Mr.  William  Winter,  —  Brutus  and  Cassius 
in  "Julius  Cnesar,"  and,  in  1887  and  for  a  short  time 
thereafter,  Richard  II.  in  the  drama  of  that  name.  On 
several  occasions  during  the  first  half  of  his  career 
he  essayed  Romeo.  Outside  the  Shakespearian  drama, 
his. principal  parts  were  those  of  Sir  Giles  Overreach 
in  Massinger's  "  A  New  Way  to  Pay  Old  Debts,"  Don 
Cesar  de  Bazan,  Sir  Edward  Mortimer  in  "  The  Iron 
Chest,"  Claude  Melnotte,  Pescara  in  "  The  Apostate," 
Ruy  Bias,  Brutus  in  John  Howard  Payne's  tragedy, 
Bertuccio  in  "The  Fool's  Revenge"  (Tom  Taylor's  ver- 
sion of  "Le  Roi  s'Amusc"  of  Victor  Hugo),  and  Riche- 
lieu, All  the  characters  in  this  group  except  the  last 
three  he  practically  dropped  from  his  acting  list  for  a 
long  time  in  the  middle  of  his  professional  life,  but 
some  eight  or  nine  years  before  his  death  "revived" 
them,  in  the  stage  phrase,  for  performance  in  New 
York,  Boston,  and  some  other  cities. 

I  have  spoken  briefly  of  Mr.  Booth's  fine  physical 
equipment,  and  of  the  excellence  of  what  may  be  called 
the  outward  part  of  his  technique.  But  to  attain  suc- 
cess nobly  and  truly  in  the  presentation  of  the  char- 
acters which  have  been  enumerated,  it  was  necessary 


EDWIN    BOOTH.  33 

that  great  conditions  of  mind,  temperament,  and  spirit 
should  be  united  in  the  impersonator.  Mr.  Booth's 
intellectual  strength  and  lucidity  were  of  prime  impor- 
tance to  all  his  achievement,  and  conspicuous  factors  in 
all  his  work.  I  have  no  means  of  knowing  what  Mr, 
Booth's  ability  and  desire  were  on  other  lines  of  study; 
but  of  Shakespeare  and  the  other  ICnglish  dramatists 
he  was  a  close,  intuitive,  and  discriminating  student, 
often  showing  scholarly  ability  in  judging  of  texts  and 
readings,  and  constantly  displaying  such  a  mastery  of 
the  great  playwright's  thought  in  sum  and  in  detail, 
as  is  possible  only  to  a  vivid  and  refined  intelligence 
working  strongly  and  assiduously.  Justly  to  conceive, 
as  an  actor  should  conceive,  a  character  like  Hamlet, 
lago,  or  Shylock  is  a  true  intellectual  gift,  and  has  been 
given  to  a  comparatively  small  number  of  performers. 
Mr.  Booth's  mind's  eyesight  was  clear  as  crystal:  he 
read,  saw,  understood,  conceived  ;  then,  by  the  opera- 
tion of  the  artist's  constructive  faculty,  brought  all  the 
portions  of  his  conception  together,  each  clearly  de- 
fined in  itself,  and  definitely  related  to  every  other  ; 
and  when  all  had  been,  as  it  were,  fused,  or  rather 
brought  into  a  vital  union,  within  the  alembic  of  the 
spirit,  the  living  product  appeared.  From  time  to  time, 
of  course,  his  conception  of  great  characters  changed, 
as  his  views  of  them  were  changed  by  further  study 
or  observation  ;  lines  were  deepened  in  one  place,  and 
softened  in  another  ;  colors  were  darkened  here,  and 
clarified  there  —  perhaj)s  the  entire  character  grew  or 
lessened  in  size  or  sweetness  or  sjiirituality,  or  even 
was  so  modified  in  significant  particulars  as  to  produce 
a  new  effect.  But  at  each  stage  of  the  process  the 
artist's  thought  was  clear  and  vivid,  and  fairly  anil  in- 


34  FAMOUS   AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

tuitively  related  to  the  writer  whom  he  sought  to  inter- 
pret. A  good  examjole  of  these  changes  may  be  noted 
in  passing.  Mr.  Booth's  youthful  idea  of  Shylock  was 
of  a  literary  and  conventional  order,  according  to  the 
prevailing  tradition  of  the  stage  ;  it  made  prominent 
and  predominant  all  the  best  traits  of  Shakespeare's 
creation,  and  exhibited  the  Jew  as  a  victim  of  persecu- 
tion and  an  avenger  of  the  wrongs  of  his  race  and  re- 
ligion, showing  him  as  a  figure  of  heroic  qualities  and 
proportions.  Then  a  remarkable  change  took  place  in 
the  artist's  idea;  and  he  proceeded  to  suppress  the 
ideality  of  his  conception,  and  to  strengthen  in  it  all 
that  was  rudest  and  of  the  coarseness  of  common  clay. 
His  father's  Shylock  had  been  likened  to  a  roaring  lion, 
and  described  as  *'  marked  by  pride  of  intellect  and  in- 
tense pride  of  race."  Edwin  Booth's  was  now  an  igno- 
ble, greedy,  malicious  usurer,  a  creature  of  tremendous 
but  vile  and  vulgar  passions,  sometimes  hideously  jocu- 
lar, in  the  trial  scene  fawning  upon  Portia  after  the 
ruling  in  his  favor,  incapable  of  exaltation  except  for 
some  rare  brief  moment,  appealing  to  the  spectator's 
imagination  only  on  the  lower  side.  This  impersona- 
tion was,  in  its  way,  very  human,  and  effectively  em- 
bodied a  conception  of  Shylock  which  may  be  easily 
defended  as  natural  and  Shakespearian.  Gradually  Mr, 
Booth  made  the  tone  of  his  impersonation  more  som- 
bre, dispensed  with  his  lighter  touches,  and  presented 
a  personage  of  greater  power  and  depth,  though  still 
of  common  mould.  At  last  he  came  to  a  theory  of  the 
character  in  which  the  extremes  of  his  former  concep- 
tions were  avoided  ;  out  of  which  was  evolved  an  im- 
personation of  remarkable  justness,  consistency,  and 
fulness,  wherein  neither  the  essential  baseness  of  Shy- 


EDWIN    BOOTH.  35 

lock's  nature  nor  the  frequent  dignity  born  of  his 
passionate  purpose  was  sacrificed.  The  depth  and  in- 
tensity, the  lodged  hate,  the  inflexible  will,  the  stub- 
born spirit,  and  the  fanatical  conviction  of  the  Jew 
were  indicated  with  continuous  and  imposing  power  ; 
but  Shylock  was  not  represented  with  the  loftiness  of 
a  Greek  sage  or  of  a  Christian  martyr  because  of  the 
force  of  his  evil  passions  and  resolved  temper.  In  this 
final  assumption,  Shakespeare's  composite  thought  and 
unrelenting  neutrality  in  the  invention  of  Shylock  were 
supremely  well  expressed  ;  yet  every  one  of  the  pre- 
vious impersonations  had  been  lucid,  intellectually  vig- 
orous, and  fairly  interpretative  of  the  master  dramatist. 
Through  these  qualities  of  intellectual  force  and 
clearness,  used  with  the  patient  discretion  of  a  close 
student,  Mr.  Booth  became  possessed  of  that  rarest 
of  histrionic  possessions,  —  a  large  style.  The  piirase 
is  applied  with  flippant  frequency  to  many  artists,  and 
seems  to  be  comprehended  about  as  seldom  as  it  is 
merited.  Upon  the  stage  a  large  style  is  character- 
istic of  the  actor  who  is  conscious,  at  every  moment 
of  his  performance,  not  only  of  the  needs  of  that 
moment,  but  of  the  total  value  and  color  of  the  char- 
acter he  is  presenting,  and  of  the  relation  borne  by  the 
passion  of  the  instant  to  all  the  stirs  of  passion  which 
have  preceded  it.  With  the  mere  reading  of  the  defi- 
nition, the  observer  of  our  modern  stage  has  a  painful 
vision  of  the  small,  deformed,  fragmentary,  spasmodic 
methods  prevailing  even  among  our  more  ambitious 
actors,  who  for  the  most  part  are  well  contented  if 
they  can  utter  any  passion  with  a  vaguely  befitting 
naturalness.  In  the  playing  of  such  artists,  Juliet, 
Imogen,    and    Parthenia    have    but    one    mode    of    ex- 


36  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

pressing  tenderness  ;  Rosalind  and  Viola  but  one  kind 
of  vivacity ;  Gloster,  Spartacus,  and  Lear  but  one  form 
of  rage.  Many  examples  of  Mr.  Booth's  largeness  and 
artistic  fulness  of  style  might  be  cited.  His  lago 
is  especially  in  point.  In  his  scheme  of  that  char- 
acter also,  there  had  been  an  interesting  process 
of  development.  Midway  or  moderately  early  in  his 
career,  Mr.  Booth  apparently  decided  that  he  must 
fit  his  performance  of  the  part  to  his  physical  limita- 
tions. He  made  lago  a  light,  comfortable  villain,  and 
bore  down  upon  that  side  of  the  crafty  Venetian's 
nature  which  allies  him  most  closely  with  common 
humanity.  But  later  he  darkened  the  hues  of  his 
conception,  and  steadily  increased  its  force,  impetu- 
osity, and  profundity.  As  thus  finally  presented,  his 
lago  was  a  masterpiece  in  respect  of  its  breadth  and 
finish  of  style,  and  was  consummate  in  its  malign 
beauty.  In  immediate  appeal  to  the  eye  and  the  taste 
of  the  spectator,  it  was  exceedingly  interesting  :  a  fasci- 
nating man,  whose  gayer  air  had  the  crisp  sparkle  of  a 
fine  winter's  day;  whose  usual  thoughtfulness  was  easy, 
poised,  unaffected,  potent,  but  not  ponderous  ;  whose 
talk  was  sensible,  shrewd,  and  just  cynical  enough  to 
relish  to  the  taste  of  the  worldly  ;  whose  wit  was  aston- 
ishingly keen,  quick,  inventive,  prolific,  and  uttered  with 
exquisite  aptness  by  a  tongue  which  drove  or  clinched 
a  nail  at  every  stroke  ;  handsome  in  face,  graceful  and 
free  in  motion  and  in  manners,  polished,  frank,  and  rich 
in  bonhomie.  In  the  deeper  portions  of  his  nature,  Mr. 
Booth's  lago  was  endowed  with  an  intellect  as  swift 
and  subtle  as  electricity,  and,  like  that  mysterious  ele- 
ment, capable  of  playing  lightly  over  surfaces,  or  of 
rending  the  toughest  obstacles  in  sunder.     His  temper 


EDWIN    BOOTH.  37 

was  like  some  ethereal  quicksilver  in  its  sensitiveness, 
adapting  itself  to  every  mood  of  those  whom  it  sought 
to  influence  ;  and  in  its  intensity  of  malevolence  and 
potency  of  maleficence,  his  spirit  had  that  right  satanic 
quality  which  stopped  not  short  of  a  consuming  desire 
to  torture  and  "  enmesh  "  "  all  "  good  men  and  women, 
"  ensnaring  "  them  both  in  "soul  and  body,"  and  did 
not  fear  to  thrust  its  blasphemy  into  the  very  face  of 
the  Almighty.  In  diabolic  force  and  blackness  Mr. 
Booth's  assumption  was,  I  suppose,  inferior  to  that  of 
his  father  and  of  some  of  the  other  actors  of  the  old 
heroic  school.  But  in  absolute  self-consistency,  in  per- 
fectness  of  proportion,  in  the  maintenance  of  a  most 
"  politic  state  of  evil,"  and  in  the  unfailing  relation  of 
every  point  and  particular  of  the  conception  to  every 
other,  and  to  the  total  scheme,  it  was  as  noble  an 
illustration  of  largeness  of  style  as  has  been  afforded 
by  our  modern  stage. 

Intellectual  force  and  lucidity  —  of  which,  as  has 
been  said,  Mr.  Booth  was  possessed  in  an  extraordi- 
narily high  degree  —  are  essential  to  the  conception 
of  dramatic  characters,  and  to  the  presentation  of  such 
characters  in  a  large  and  finished  style.  The  ability 
deeply  to  move  and  convince  the  spectator  by  per- 
formance is  derived  from  the  possession  of  another 
quality  or  .set  of  qualities.  To  identify  this  quality 
or  these  qualities  is  not  easy.  Neither  patience,  nor 
close  observation  of  nature,  nor  superior  mimetic  skill, 
nor  even  sincerity,  nor  all  these  together,  will  neces- 
sarily furnish  the  player  with  the  power  to  enter  into 
the  inmost  life  of  the  personages  that  he  represents, 
to  possess  them  or  to  be  possessed  by  them  completely, 
and  then  so  to  present  them  as  to  carry  conviction  to 


38  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF    TO-DAV. 

the  soul  of  the  spectator.  I  do  not  mean  by  "  convic- 
tion "  to  imply  that  the  auditor  will  ever,  except  for 
brief  instants  and  at  long  intervals,  lose  the  sense  of 
the  player's  art,  or  forget  that  that  art  is  representa- 
tive ;  but  that  the  actor  shall  so  bring  his  audience  into 
touch  with  the  spirit  of  his  creations  that  they  shall 
be  spiritually  discerned,  received,  accepted,  through  the 
imagination  believed  in,  and  so  loved  or  hated,  honored 
or  contemned ;  shall  be,  in  other  words,  brought  into 
genuinely  and  deeply  sympathetic  relations  with  the 
men  and  women  who  see  and  hear.  Lacking  this 
power,  the  histrionic  artist  may  interest,  please,  or 
charm,  but,  how  clever  soever  he  may  be,  cannot  by 
any  possibility  profoundly  stir  the  passions  or  touch 
the  heart.  -A  full  sense  of  the  difference  among  play- 
ers in  this  respect  is  sometimes  slow  to  develop  itself, 
but  it  comes  sooner  or  later  to  nearly  all  who  study 
the  stage  intelligently.  It  is  not  diflficult  to  divide  our 
leading  modern  actors  of  the  "serious"  order  into  two 
classes,  according  to  their  possession  or  lack  of  this 
ability,  and  then  to  see  that  those  of  one  variety  appeal 
successfully  to  the  eye,  the  taste,  the  critical  judgment, 
to  what  may  be  called,  in  a  large  sense,  the  pictorial 
faculty  of  their  spectators ;  the  actors  of  the  other 
sort,  to  the  same  faculties,  but  chiefly  to  imagination, 
sensibility,  and  sympathy.  These  diverse  appeals  are 
made  through  the  same  or  similar  dramatic  characters, 
and  often,  so  far  as  I  can  judge,  with  little  or  no  con- 
scious difference  in  the  ambitions  or  hopes  of  the  actors, 
all  of  whom,  apparently,  aim  to  touch  the  heart.  Yet 
the  results  are  as  far  apart  as  entertainment  is  from 
emotion.  Mr.  Irving  and  Mr.  Willard  may  be  named 
as  players  of  the  first  kind,  Salvini  and  Booth  of  the 


EDWIN    BOOTH.  39 

second.  Some  superiority  in  delicacy  or  fulness  of 
sympathy,  some  hold  upon  a  more  intuitive  imagina- 
tion, some  higher  potency  or  fervor  of  temperament, 
avail  to  give  players  of  the  larger  order  a  more  com- 
plete possession  of  the  soul  of  the  part  which  they 
assume,  and  then  the  gift  so  to  share  that  possession 
as  deeply  to  stir  the  "convinced"  listener  with  the 
passions  of  the  part. 

One  simple,  excellent  test  may  be  applied  to  indicate 
or  enforce  the  distinction  which  has  been  made,  —  try 
the  performance  by  repeatedly  witnessing  it,  and  ob- 
serving its  effect  upon  the  mind  and  memory.  Mr. 
Irving's  Louis  XI.,  for  instance,  may  be  fairly  regarded 
as  a  fine  example  of  his  histrionic  cleverness.  In 
effectiveness  and  variety  of  "points,"  in  delicacy  of 
detail  as  to  form,  color,  action,  and  tone,  in  consum- 
mate mimetic  skill,  it  can  scarcely  be  surpassed  ;  its 
picturesqueness  is  perfect.  But  scarcely  even  at  a  first 
sight  of  the  performance  is  the  spectator  deeply  moved 
either  to  horror,  pain,  or  loathing;  on  a  second  view, 
curiosity  only  remains  ;  and  when,  by  anotlier  sight, 
curiosity  has  been  satisfied,  there  is  no  further  desire 
to  witness  the  performance.  Mr.  Irving's  impersona- 
tion of  Charles  I.,  to  take  another  instance,  stays,  if  it 
stays  at  all,  within  the  memory  of  those  who  have  be- 
held it  as  if  it  were  an  exquisitely  finished  {portrait  in 
oils  of  the  unfortunate  monarch  ;  but  the  recollection 
causes  no  trouble  of  the  spirit.  Mr.  Willard's  Cyrus 
Blenkarn  is  recalled  for  its  careful  workmanshij),  decent 
reserve,  and  regard  for  the  modesty  of  nature,  which 
are  respectfully  and  unperturbedly  remembered.  These 
artists,  and  such  as  these,  fine  and  ndmirable  as  tlu'V 
are  in  many  respects,  siiow  tiie  eyes,  but  do  not  gritrve 


40  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

the  heart ;  like  a  procession  of  shadows  and  pictures 
their  creations  come,  and  so  depart.  Compare  with 
this  the  hold  which  the  greater  performances  of  Salvini 
have  upon  the  spirit,  first  in  representation  and  after- 
ward in  remembrance.  It  is  scarcely  possible  to  recall 
his  Conrade  in  "La  Morte  Civile,"  or  his  Othello,  or 
his  Samson,  without  a  sense  of  tug  at  the  heartstrings ; 
and  repeated  view  of  such  performances  scarcely  dulls 
the  spectator's  pleasure,  for  the  spirit  is  slow  to  tire 
of  the  strenuous  joy  of  its  own  sympathetic  travail 
or  pain. 

To  Mr.  Booth  this  great  power  was  given,  not  indeed 
in  the  interpretation  of  all  his  characters,  but  of  the 
chiefest  of  them.  He  entered  into  and  uttered  the  in- 
ner life  of  his  prime  creations  ;  and  one  knew  the  com- 
pleteness of  his  mastery  by  the  delightful  heartache, 
the  throb  in  the  throat,  the  flush  of  the  cheek,  which 
bespoke  the  "conviction"  of  the  auditory.  His  Riche- 
lieu, as  it  was  presented  at  the  highest  point  of  his 
career,  when  it  had  been  largely  divested  of  theatrical- 
ness,  but  had  lost  nothing  of  the  player's  force,  may 
be  selected  as  a  good  example  of  his  power  in  this  kind. 
The  character  itself  docs  not  afford  the  greatest  oppor- 
tunities of  course  ;  but  it  is  interesting  at  the  outset 
to  note  that  Mr.  Booth  no^,  only  filled  to  overflowing 
the  conception  of  Bulwer,  but  went  far  beyond  it,  and 
imported  into  the  character  of  the  cardinal  a  wealth  of 
truth  and  life  which  transcended  the  scheme  of  the 
text.  The  inconsistencies  of  the  cardinal  were  recon- 
ciled or  made  acceptable  by  Mr.  Booth's  treatment. 
The  personal  flavor  and  intellectual  quality  of  the  man 
were  shown  with  absolute  vividness  ;  his  wit,  his  humor, 
his  cunning,  his  insight  into  character,  his  bodily  deli- 


EDWIN    BOOTH.  4 1 

cacy  and  frequent  lonesomeness,  his  one  exacting  form 
of  vanity,  his  diplomatic  unscrupulousness,  his  aptness 
in  flattery,  his  subtlety,  speed,  versatility,  and  fruitful- 
ness  of  resource,  were  made  portions  of  a  living  pic- 
ture, and  fused  by  the  imagination  of  the  player  into 
a  creation  which  took  possession  of  the  spectator's 
memory.  A  hundred  even  of  his  lighter  phrases  are 
unforgetable.  The  sly  shrewdness — delighting  in  its 
knowledge  of  men,  and  in  its  own  duplicity  as  a  neces- 
sary implement  of  statecraft  — with  which,  questioning 
Joseph  concerning  Huguet's  fidelity,  he  says, — 

"  Think  —  we  hanged  his  father ! 


Trash  !  favors  past  —  that's  nothing.     In  his  hours 
Of  confidence  with  you  has  he  named  the  favors 
To  come,  he  counts  on.!' 


Colonel  and  nobleman ! 

My  bashful  Huguet !  that  can  never  be  ! 

We  have  him  not  the  less  —  we'll  promise  it  — 

And  see  the  king  withholds;  " 

the  exquisite  finesse  and  perfect  ease  with  which,  after 
frankly  holding  out  the  bait  of  a  colonelcy  to  Huguet, 
in  the  words,  — 

"  If  I  live  long  enough  —  ay,  mark  my  words  — 
If  I  live  long  enough,  you'll  be  a  colonel," 

he  adds,  half  under  his  breath,  slowly,  in  a  ruminating 
tone  as  if  expressing  a  confidential  afterthought,  yet 
with  a  clearly  edged  enunciation  which  carries  straight 
to  the  captain's  ear, 

"  Ni>l>li-       p»rhaps;  " 


42  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

the  delicately  ironical  flavor  of  the  half-line  with  which, 
after  his  resignation,  he  comments  upon  the  king's 
appointment  of  his  successor,  De  Baradas, 

"  A  most  sagacious  choice;  " 

the  tenderness  of  his  comforting  promise  to  Julie,  his 
stricken  ward, 

"All  will  be  well;  yes,  yet  all  well," 

the  short  words  dropping  full  and  slow  and  sweet,  as  if 
they  were  laden  with  balm,  — where  could  one  pause  in 
the  chronicle,  every  line  of  which  is  a  reminder  and 
proof  of  the  extraordinary  intuition  and  just  naturalness 
with  which  the  actor  penetrated  the  depths  of  the  car- 
dinal's spirit,  and  converted  his  knowledge  into  the 
very  substance  of  imaginative  life  ?  Early  in  his  career 
Mr.  Booth  played  the  character  brilliantly  well,  but  with 
every  added  year  he  made  some  gain  on  the  lighter  side 
of  his  performance,  bringing  to  it  a  yet  wiser  discre- 
tion, a  more  delicate  chastity  of  phrase,  a  more  complete 
abnegation  of  vulgar  over-emphasis,  until  the  portrai- 
ture was  etched,  as  it  were,  on  the  tissue  of  the  spec- 
tator's brain  with  some  uninjurious  acid.  The  more 
intense,  vehement,  and  lofty  passions  of  the  character 
were  interpreted  by  Mr.  Booth  with  varying  degrees  of 
histrionic  skill.  Often,  in  his  younger  period,  his  dec- 
lamation of  this  or  that  famous  speech  of  the  cardinal 
was  superfluously  theatrical,  or  degenerated  even  into 
rant ;  at  his  point  of  greatest  ripeness  he  had  nearly 
rid  himself  and  his  style  of  fustian,  and  met  the 
supreme  test  by  producing  powerful  effects  without 
extravagance  in  speech  or  in  action.  But,  with  all  its 
imperfections  on  its   head,   Mr.    l^ooth's   Richelieu,   at 


EDWIN    BOOTH.  43 

any  time  within  the  last  fifteen  years  of  his  life,  dem- 
onstrated in  its  stronger  aspects  the  master  actor  upon 
the  lines  which  I  am  now  considering.  It  indeed  piqued 
and  gratified  the  curiosity,  and  stimulated  and  fed  the 
spectator's  sense  of  the  picturesque.  But  that  kind 
of  achievement  was  as  naught  in  comparison  with  the 
actor's  "conviction"  of  his  hearers'  hearts.  Always 
at  some  point  in  the  performance,  often  at  many  points, 
when  the  cardinal's  spirit  blazed  in  ecstasy  of  courage 
or  wrath,  or  when,  especially,  all  weaknesses  and  insin- 
cerities solved  in  the  pure  flame  of  a  true  love  of 
France,  Richelieu  stood,  moved,  and  spoke,  a  veritable 
incarnation  of  the  spirit  of  patriotism,  the  listener's 
soul  would  be  stirred,  thrilled,  strained  almost,  it  some- 
times seemed  consumed,  by  a  passionate  sympathy. 
Such  pain  and  such  joy  it  is  given  only  to  the  actor 
of  the  first  order  to  produce.  The  source  of  the  pro- 
ducing power  lies  chiefly  perhaps  in  temperamental 
force,  and  its  basis  may  be  partly  or  largely  physical. 
But,  however  derived,  it  is  unmistakable,  the  siue  qua 
non  of  the  great  tragedian  ;  and  the  lack  of  it  relegates 
the  tragic  actor  to  the  second  rank  of  his  profession. 

The  tragedian  who  is  master  of  the  mimetic  detail 
of  his  art,  of  a  large  and  finished  style,  and  of  the 
power  to  compel  the  hearts  of  men  by  the  passi(  n  of 
the  scene,  is  a  great  actor.  Kdwin  liooth  was  si  ch  a 
master.  P'or  my  present  purpose,  it  remains  only  to 
be  said  that  his  prime  distinction  among  the  \A  lyers 
of  our  time  lay  in  a  quality  for  which  I  know  no  better 
name  than  ideality.  The  possession  of  that  cjuality  a 
century  or  even  half  a  century  ago  could  scared}  have 
conferred  distinction  upon  a  serious  actor.  I'layers 
were  endowed  with    it    in   various  degrees   of    course; 


44  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

but  from  Garrick  to  Junius  Brutus  Booth,  through  all 
the  illustrious  lines  of  Kembles  and  Keans,  tlie  trage- 
dians of  the  elder  day  assumed  it  as  a  part  of  their 
theory,  so  to  speak.  It  was  talcen  for  granted  by  the 
scholarly  Macready,  and  even  the  passionate  and  sen- 
suous-natured  Forrest  confidently  aspired  to  its  posses- 
sion. It  is  easy  to  see  why  these  artists  had  a  tradition 
in  favor  of  ideality ;  their  acting  had  been  modelled 
upon  the  requirements  of  the  dramas  and  characters 
which  they  represented  ;  their  playing  was  ideal,  even 
as  and  because  their  plays  were  ideal.  In  our  time  a 
change  has  taken  place,  slowly,  but  with  almost  un- 
remitting steadiness.  We  have  seen  the  tragedies  of 
Shakespeare  less  and  less  in  evidence ;  and,  in  a  day 
when  the  study  of  the  master  poet  is  more  thorough 
and  more  general  than  ever  before,  we  have  witnessed 
the  phenomenon  of  the  gradual  disappearance  of  his 
serious  dramas  from  the  theatre.  Edwin  Booth,  came 
down  to  us  from  a  former  generation,  and  brought  with 
him  the  tradition  which,  transmitted  to  him  by  his 
father,  had  had  its  source  in  the  rude  stage  upon  which 
Burbage  played.  He  was  an  actor  of  the  ideal  order, 
and  not  of  that  school  which  is  now  known  as  the 
realistic.  Nothing  but  necessity  would  compel  me  to 
comment  upon  that  offensive  pair  of  adjectives,  whose 
votaries  and  vassals  are  wearying  the  world  with  their 
endless  battles  and  squabbles,  —  the  world  wherein 
room  vinst  be  found,  in  one  way  or  another,  for 
Raphael  and  Vereschagin,  for  Scott  and  Tolstof,  for 
Corot  and  Courbet,  for  Hawthorne  and  Jane  Austen, 
for  Shakespeare's  Imogen  and  Ibsen's  Nora.  Uj^on 
the  stage  the  schools  are  sharply  distinguished,  but 
seldom  clash,  because  they  seldom  meet.     Tragedy  of 


EDWIN    BOOTH.  45 

the  higher  order  is  the  natural  home  of  ideal  acting, 
even  as  comedy  is  the  usual  place  of  the  realistic. 
Thus  far,  indeed,  the  dramatists  whom  the  world  has 
accepted  as  great  are  ranged  with  the  ideals.  Most 
of  them,  whether  writers  of  tragedy  or  of  comedy,  are 
of  the  old  regime,  to  be  sure ;  for  the  positions  of 
Ibsen  and  of  the  Belgian,  Maetterlinck,  have  not  been 
settled  for  English-speaking  people,  any  more  than 
have  the  places  of  Mr.  Pinero,  Mr.  Heme,  Mr.  Barnard, 
Mr,  Harrigan,  and  other  playwrights  of  local  reputa- 
tion. But  the  drift  is  now  steadily  away  from  what 
has  been  received  as  classic  ;  and,  especially  in  comedy, 
the  stage  "  is  subdued  to  what  it  works  in,  like  the 
dyer's  hand." 

In  playing  the  tragedies  of  Shakespeare,  on  the  other 
hand,  sensitive  actors  have  for  the  most  part  found 
themselves  under  a  strong  compulsion  toward  the  ideal 
style.  All  good  acting  must  of  course  be  derived  from, 
and  keep  a  firm  hold  on,  reality  or  nature,  and  must  be, 
therefore,  in  its  essence,  realistic  in  the  preciscr  sense 
of  tlie  word.  Yet  in  the  higher  ranges  of  the  drama, 
and  especially  in  its  poetic  forms,  there  are  many 
characters  which  demand  both  to  be  conceived  and  to 
be  expressed  ideally ;  that  is  to  say,  to  be  lifted  above 
the  commonplace  of  daily  life  into  the  realm  of  fancy ; 
to  be  so  represented  that,  though  their  kinship  with 
humanity  is  never  lost,  their  prime  citizenship  is  dem- 
onstrated to  be  in  the  land  of  the  imagination.  Kven 
when  the  question  is  not  of  the  most  e.xalted  or  poetic 
creations,  most  persons  can  perceive  that  the  style  of 
the  dramatist  ought  in  some  measure  to  control  the 
stvie  of  the  actor;  that  Rosalind  demmids  a  d'ffcrejit 
treatment   from    Lady  Gay   Spanker,   Sir   Giles    Over- 


46  FAMOUS   AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

reach  from  Martin  Berry.  And  though  an  eccentric 
actor  has  occasionally  done  his  despite  upon  Shylock 
or  Gloster,  an  almost  perfect  consensus  of  mankind 
would  probably  assume  that  the  great  tragic  characters 
of  the  higher  drama  should  be  played  in  a  fashion 
accordant  somehow  with  the  loftiness  of  their  language 
and  scheme. 

It  is  foreign  to  my  purpose  to  discuss  the  peculiari- 
ties of  this  loftier  mode  of  playing.  The  essential 
thing  to  be  noted  is  that  the  artist  of  the  ideal  school 
reaches  his  results  by  a  method  which  removes  them 
from  and  above  every-day  life;  deliberately  departing, 
in  his  bearing  and  utterance,  from  the  familiar  mode  of 
parlor,  counting-room,  and  street,  by  the  adoption  of  a 
style  at  once  more  distinct,  more  formal,  and  more  ele- 
vated. The  absurdities  into  which  this  manner  may 
run  in  the  gesture,  walk,  and  declamation  of  incom- 
petent performers  have  been  the  subject  of  ridicule 
almost  ever  since  the  stage  and  the  actor  came  into 
existence.  Shakespeare,  even  in  the  day  when  tragedy 
was  "preferred  "  by  gentle  and  simple,  declared,  through 
the  mouth  of  Hamlet,  that  the  extravagant  action,  the 
strut,  the  bellow,  and  the  rant  of  the  actor  of  the  robus- 
tious sort  offended  him  "to  the  soul."  Even  very 
capable  players  are  in  danger,  as  we  all  know,  of  achiev- 
ing fustain  in  attempting  velvet.  But  the  grand  style 
in  its  own  place  is  none  the  less  the  true  style  because 
the  attainment  of  it  is  beset  by  grievous  dangers.  Its 
function  is  not  at  any  time  nor  under  any  temptation, 
whatsoever  the  opinion  of  superficial  critics  to  the  con- 
trary may  be,  to  defy  or  defeat  nature.  When  the 
histrionic  artist  has  the  true  feeling  for  his  business, 
and  a  true  skill  in  his  art,  his  product  is  supremely 


EDWIN    BOOTH.  47 

natural,  if  the  nature  of  man,  as  seen  by  the  clarifying, 
penetrating  light  of  the  imagination,  and  cleansed  by 
the  poet's  power  from  what  is  transient  and  inessential, 
is  to  be  taken  as  the  standard.  Upon  the  stage,  poetry 
has  a  language  and  voice  of  its  own,  which  differ  from 
those  of  our  working-day  life  mainly  because  the  higher 
mood  of  the  mind  or  spirit,  which  is  here  intermittently 
experienced,  is  there  maintained  without  fall  or  break  ; 
and  that  language  it  is  the  business  and  privilege  of  the 
actor  of  the  ideal  order  to  speak  to  the  audience,  which 
is  his  world. 

Edwin  Booth's  art  was  pre-eminently  idealistic.  That 
he  sometimes  erred  and  displeased  by  his  adherence 
to  a  stilted  and  conventionally  theatrical  style  is  not 
to  be  questioned.  But,  judged  at  and  by  his  best,  he 
attained  the  noble  distinction  of  so  interpreting  the 
loftiest  creations  of  the  first  of  dramatists,  that  his 
impersonations  were  both  beautifully  ideal  and  harmo- 
nious with  the  essential  truth  of  life.  If  the  faults  of 
his  Hamlet  had  been  twenty  times  greater  than  they 
were,  they  would  not  have  destroyed  the  high  value  of 
an  assumption  which  reproduced  the  essence  of  the 
poet's  thought,  and  imaged  before  us  the  very  form 
and  soul  of  Shakespeare's  prophetic  embodiment  of  the 
anxious,  speculative,  superrefined,  and  introverted  hu- 
manity of  modern  times.  Mr.  Booth's  impersonation  of 
King  Lear  may  be  instanced,  I  think,  as  the  greatest 
expression  of  his  jiowers  in  this  noble  kind.  The 
artist's  achievement  in  this  part  was  the  more  remark- 
able because  of  his  lack  of  the  highest  physical  force, 
and  the  impossibility  —  consequent  perhaps  upon  that 
deficiency — of  his  reaching  such  sublimity  of  effect  as 
that  of  Salvini,  for  example,  at  the   Italian's  grandest 


48  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

moments.  But  Mr.  Booth's  Lear  was  so  wrought  as  to 
be  as  pure  a  triumph  of  the  spiritual  over  the  mate- 
rial as  the  warmest  devotee  of  the  idealistic  could  wish 
to  see.  Without  extravagance  of  gesture,  —  which, 
indeed,  Mr.  Booth  always  used  sparingly,  —  without 
violence  of  voice,  without  extreme  effort  of  any  kind, 
the  chaotic  vastness  of  Lear's  nature,  the  frenzied 
wrath  and  woe  of  the  "child-changed  father,"  his  agony 
of  contrition  over  his  rejection  of  Cordelia,  the  intel- 
lectual splendors  which  fitfully  illuminate  the  pathos 
of  his  madness,  and  the  sweet  anguish  of  his  restora- 
tion to  a  new  life  of  the  soul,  were  greatly  displayed. 
The  subtlety,  picturesqucness,  and  graphic  vividness 
of  all  the  details  of  the  performance,  especially  in 
the  second  and  third  acts,  were  remarkable,  but  were 
scarcely  to  be  esteemed  in  comparison  with  the  imme- 
diate power  of  the  impersonation  to  touch  the  deepest 
springs  of  emotion.  It  might  be  said  without  extrava- 
gance that  the  actor's  victory  in  the  performance  was 
like  that  of  the  dramatist  in  the  tragedy.  Who  can 
estimate  or  overestimate  the  worth  to  the  world  of 
such  art  as  this  .-*  The  actor  dies,  and  leaves  no  sign  or 
memorial  of  his  prowess,  it  has  been  often  said ;  even 
Garrick  and  Edmund  Kean,  Siddons  and  Rachel,  are 
but  names,  to  which  the  modern  ear  scarcely  permits  a 
hospitable  entrance.  But  acting  such  as  that  of  Mr. 
Booth  in  Lear,  which  lifts  the  spectator  for  a  time 
almost  to  the  level  of  the  play,  and  transports  him  be- 
yond the  ignorant  present,  which  shows  the  spirit  to 
itself  by  the  searching  illumination  of  the  poet's  genius, 
must  have  a  power  far  transcending  the  effect  of  the 
moment.  In  his  highest  achievements,  Edwin  Booth 
was  an  actor  of  the  spirit,  to  the  spirit,  for  the  spirit, — 


EDWIX    BOOTH.  49 

a  pure  interpreter  of  the  master  dramatist  ;  and  the 
echoes  which  he  there  awakened  must  roll,  like  the 
poet's  own,  we  may  well  believe,  from  soul  to  soul,  and 
grow  forever  and  forever. 

I  have  not  attempted  to  deal,  except  indirectly,  with 
Mr.  Booth's  faults  of  style  ;  but  justice  seems  to  de- 
mand a  few  words  of  comment  upon  his  two  chief  pro- 
fessional limitations.  He  was  unsuccessful  in  playing 
the  lover  upon  the  stage  ;  he  had  no  gift  in  mirth- 
fulness.  The  former  proposition  needs  perhaps  a 
little  qualification.  Mr.  Booth  at  some  moments,  as 
in  his  Hamlet,  Othello,  and  Sir  Edward  Mortimer,  suc- 
ceeded in  speaking  the  voice  of  the  divine  passion  with 
impressive  earnestness,  and  with  the  suggestion  of 
great  depth  of  feeling.  But  his  touch  in  this  kind 
was  always  heavy,  his  tone  portentous.  The  fluent 
love  of  youth,  love  of  that  intermittent,  palpitating, 
many-hued  variety  which  is  redundantly  called  "  sen- 
timental," he  had  no  skill  to  utter  ;  and  his  imper- 
sonation of  Claude  Melnotte,  for  example,  was  even 
more  artificial  than  Sir  Bulwcr  Lytton's  style  in  "The 
Lady  of  Lyons."  In  comedy  Mr.  Booth  often  sparkled  ; 
and  sometimes,  as  in  Petruchio  and  Don  C6sar  de 
Bazan,  he  was  gay  and  entertaining.  But,  like  all  his 
family,  he  had  no  power  to  excite  laughter.  His  per- 
formance of  lienedick  may  be  cited  as  his  highest 
achievement  in  the  lighter  drama  ;  it  was  elegant,  easy, 
of  great  intellectual  brilliancy  and  charm,  but  quite 
devoid  of  that  capacity  for  creating  mirth  which 
Shakespeare  makes  a  prime  quality  in  his  hero. 

Of  Mr.  Booth's  personal  character  it  would  be  un- 
becoming in  me  to  speak  in  this  j^lace,  exce|)t  for  a 
reason  which  compels  me  to  say  a  single  word.     He 


50  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF    TO-DAY. 

presented  the  spectacle  —  the  more  impressive  because 
it  has  not  been  very  common  — of  a  life  which  was  all 
upon  one  plane.  Pure,  generous,  high-minded,  incapa- 
ble of  vulgar  arts,  either  of  defence  or  display,  he  lived 
upon  the  stage  of  the  world,  even  as  on  the  mimic 
stage,  an  ideal  life.  And  the  one  appalling  disaster 
and  sorrow  of  his  experience  he  bore  with  such  pa- 
tience and  magnanimity  as  presently  reconquered  the 
favor  of  a  shaken  and  bewildered  nation.  Only  great 
men  can  thus  greatly  endure  great  griefs.  The  soul 
of  Edwin  Booth,  like  the  art  of  Edwin  Booth,  was  of 
the  truly  heroic  type. 


Edwin  Booth  was  the  son  of  Junius  Brutus  Booth,  and  was 
born  in  Maryland,  Nov.  13,  1833.  He  accompanied  his  father  in 
professional  tours,  and  on  the  16th  of  September,  1849,  ri^^de  his 
dthitt -AS  Tressel  to  the  elder  Booth's  Richard  III.  at  the  Boston 
Museum.  A  little  later  tlie  two  travelled  along  the  I'acific  Coast, 
but  met  with  financial  disappointments.  Returning  East  after  his 
father's  death,  Edwin  found  success  awaiting  him.  From  that  time 
till  his  decease  he  was  the  leading  light  of  the  American  stage.  In 
November,  1864,  he  began  in  New  York  the  famous  hundred  night 
run  of  "  Hamlet."'  On  Feb.  3,  1869,  he  opened  his  own  (Booth's) 
theatre  in  New  York  as  Romeo  to  the  Juliet  of  his  future  wife, 
Mary  McVicker.  Poor  business  management  brought  disaster  to 
this  enterprise  in  ownership,  but  the  artistic  success  of  Booth's 
productions  was  universally  acknowledged.  The  fortune  lost  was 
soon  regained,  when  after  joint  appearance  with  Salvini,  Booth 
starred,  under  the  management  of  Lawrence  Barrett,  at  one  time 
with  Barrett,  and  at  another  time  with  Modjeska.  He  was  twice 
married :  in  i860  to  Miss  Mary  Devlin  (by  whom  he  had  one  child, 
Edwina),  in  1869  to  Miss  McVicker.  He  died  in  New  York,  June  7, 
1893,  having  made  his  last  appearance  on  the  stage  at  Brooklyn 
(in  "  Hamlet ")  on  the  4th  of  April,  1891,  two  weeks  after  the  deatli 
of  Mr.  Barrett.  Mr.  Booth  had  visited  England,  and  had  there 
acted  with  Henry  Irving,  but  his  reception  was  not  cordial.  In 
Germany  he  was  warmly  greeted. 


^^^^^^^f^^^^^^^^^^^^Kt 

A  ■^  ^  ^ 

.  ft 

^' 

V 

V 

MARY    ANDERSON. 


MARY   ANDERSON. 

By  John  I).  Harry. 


There  were  no  omens  to  herald  the  coming  of  a 
brilliant  acquisition  to  the  theatre  when,  on  Saturday 
night,  Nov.  27,  1875,  "a  young  lady  of  Louisville" 
made  her  first  appearance  on  the  stage  in  her  own  city. 
The  wonderful  girlish  beauty  of  the  novice,  —  she  was 
only  sixteen, — the  earnestness  with  which  she  threw 
herself  into  her  part,  the  crude  power  and  strength  of 
her  rich  voice,  made  her  triumi)h  more  than  a  s/urrs 
d'estime.  Discerning  critics  who  witnessed  the  jier- 
formance  saw  in  her  the  physical  charms  of  an  Ade- 
laide Neilson,  with  the  dramatic  possibilities  of  a  second 
Siddons.  The  whole  audience  recognizeil  in  her  the 
possession  of  rare  dramatic  gifts,  and  a  great  career 
was  predicted.      Her  n  ime  was  Mary  Anderson. 

Those  who  knew  Mary  .Xnderson  cannot  have  been 
surprised  at  her  success  ;  for,  from  her  earliest  youtii, 
her  passion  for  tiie  theatre,  which  manifesteil  itself  in  a 
fondness  for  reading  j^lays  and  for  mimicking  tiiose  few 
actors  whom  she  was  permittetl  to  see,  combined  with 
the  charms  of  her  personalitv,  made  the  road  to  the 
stage  an  almost  inevitable  one  for  her  to  jMirsue.  Her 
talent  manifested  itself  spontaneously  ;  it  was  not  an 
inheritance.      None  of  her  ancestors  had  been   associ- 

5« 


52  I-AMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF    TO-DAY. 

atccl  with  the  theatre  and  stage.  Her  fatlier  was  a 
native  of  New  York;  and  lier  mother  was  Marie  An- 
toinette Lugers,  a  Philadelphian  of  German  parentage. 
Mary  was  born  in  Sacramento,  Cal.,  in  1859.  The  fol- 
lowing year  the  family  moved  to  Louisville,  where  they 
lived  for  several  years.  Her  father  died  in  1863,  at  the 
age  of  twenty-nine,  while  fighting  in  the  Civil  War  on 
tiie  side  of  the  South.  In  1867  her  mother  married 
Dr.  Hamilton  Griffin,  who  ever  after  was  a  devoted 
l)arent  to  her,  and  to  whose  untiring  energy  in  her 
behalf  much  of  her  success  was  due. 

Mary  Ander.son's  school  training  was  meagre.  It 
does  not  follow  from  this  fact  that  her  education  was 
poor.  The  restraints  of  school  life  were  extremely  irk- 
some to  the  girl ;  and  she  distinguished  herself  during 
her  school  days  chiefly  by  the  exuberance  of  her 
spirits,  which  was  a  source  of  constant  trouble  to  her 
teachers.  That  her  education  was  not  taken  very  seri- 
ously is  evident  from  the  fact  that  she  left  school  at 
the  age  of  fourteen,  and  never  returned  to  it.  Perhaps 
it  would  be  more  exact  to  say  that  her  intellectual 
training  began  rather  than  ended  at  this  period  ;  for 
she  devoted  her  leisure  to  the  practice  of  those  pur- 
suits which  were  her  delight,  and  which  were  almost  her 
only  preparation  for  the  stage.  She  steeped  herself  in 
Shakespeare,  for  whom  she  had  conceived  an  intense 
fondness.  This  surely  was  an  indication  of  a  natural 
literary  appreciation  which  should  be,  but  unhapjMly 
larely  is,  one  of  the  actor's  chief  attributes.  She  com- 
mitted to  memory  long  passages  from  the  more  cele- 
'brated  of  the  Shakesj^earian  dramas,  and  learned  the 
parts  of  Hamlet,  Richard  III.,  and  Wolsev,  besides 
those    of    Richelieu    and  Schiller's  Joan    of    Arc.     At 


MARY    ANDERSON.  53 

every  opportunity  she  attended  theatrical  performances, 
and  on  her  return  home  delighted  in  mimicking  the 
actors  whom  she  had  seen. 

Her  parents  indulgetl  her  fondness  for  elocution  by 
securing  for  her  the  instruction  of  Professor  Noble 
Butler,  a  Louisville  teacher  of  long  experience  and 
excellent  repute.  Her  studies  with  him  naturally  fos- 
tered her  desire  to  go  on  the  stage.  She  worked  hard 
to  develop  her  voice,  the  strength  of  which  she  realized 
was  an  essential  element  to  success,  and  busied  herself 
with  many  private  performances  of  scenes  from  famous 
plays  in  her  room.  When  she  was  about  fourteen, 
Edwin  Booth  played  in  Louisville,  and  she  saw  him  for 
the  first  time.  She  was  so  moved  by  his  performance 
of  Richard  HI.  that  she  determined  to  give  a  repetition 
of  parts  of  it  at  home.  This  she  did  before  a  small 
audience  of  her  friends ;  she  appeared  in  the  tent 
scene,  and  also  added  to  the  i)erforniance  by  giving  the 
cottage  scene  from  the  "  Lady  of  Lyons." 

A  short  time  afterwards,  while  she  was  in  Cincinnati, 
she  called  on  Charlotte  Cushman,  who  was  then  living 
there,  in  order  to  obtain  from  the  celebrated  actress 
advice  as  to  whether  she  should  enter  the  theatrical 
profession.  Miss  Cushman  heard  her  recite,  was 
struck  by  her  power  and  charmed  with  her  beauty,  and 
advised  her  not  only  to  become  an  actress,  but  to  begin 
her  career  as  a  star.  Her  api)roval  removeil  whatever 
scruples  Mary  Ander.son's  mother  had  entertained 
against  her  i)ul)lic  appearance ;  and  it  was  decided 
that  Mary  should  go  at  once  to  New  York  in  order  to 
take  .some  lessons  in  elocution  and  dramatic  action 
from  the  younger  Vandenhoff,  who  was  then  teaching 
with  success   in   that  city.      He  gave  her  ten   lessons, 


54  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS   OF   TO-DAV. 

which  formed  practically  the  only  training  she  received 
before  her  first  appearance. 

In  1875  Mr.  Barney  Macauley,  the  well-known  actor 
and  manager,  was  conducting  a  theatre  in  Louisville, 
called  by  his  name.  Mary  Anderson  appealed  to  him 
for  an  opportunity  to  make  her  debut.  He  decided 
that  he  might  utilize  the  interest  which  her  appear- 
ance would  arouse  in  Louisville  for  a  benefit  in  behalf 
of  Milnes  Levick,  a  stock  actor  well  known  in  this 
country  and  in  England,  for  which  he  was  then  making 
preparations.  One  Thursday  she  was  told  that  she 
might  appear  the  following  Saturday  night  as  Juliet. 
Costumes  were  hastily  prepared  for  her,  one  rehearsal 
of  the  tragedy  was  held,  and  when  the  Saturday  night 
arrived  she  began  that  career  which  is  without  a  par- 
allel in  the  history  of  the  American  stage. 

Mary  Anderson's  first  regular  engagement  was  played 
at  Macauley's.  She  repeated  her  performance  of  Juliet, 
and  was  seen  in  three  new  roles,  Bianca,  in  the  old- 
fashioned  tragedy  of  "  Fazio,"  now  rarely  given  ;  Julia, 
in  "  The  Hunchback  ;  "  and  Evadne,  in  the  well-known 
drama  of  that  name.*  All  of  these  parts  gave  her 
opportunities  to  display  her  dramatic  ability.  She  was 
wise  in  making  her  first  appearances  in  heavy  roles;  for 
it  is  far  easier  for  a  novice  gifted  as  she  was  with  tragic 
power,  however  crude,  to  succeed  in  them,  than  in  roles 
which  demand  a  more  subtle  art  for  their  successful 
delineation. 

Her  engagement  at  Macauley's  caused  her  fame  to 
spread  throughout  the  West,  and  secured  for  her,  a  few 
weeks  later,  an  opportunity  to  appear  in  St.  Louis. 
Here  she  was  received  coldly  ;  but  in  spite  of  the  small 
size  of    her  audience,  she  will  always   remember  that 


MARY   ANDERSON.  55 

engagement  with  pleasure,  for  it  won  for  her  the  admi- 
ration and  friendship  of  General  Sherman,  which  con- 
tinued to  the  end  of  his  life.  Her  next  engagement 
was  in  New  Orleans,  where  the  first  night  she  played 
to  a  handful  of  people.  Some  members  of  the  local 
military  college  who  were  present,  however,  were  so 
deligiited,  that  between  the  acts  they  procured  a  large 
number  of  bouquets,  and  deluged  her  with  them.  Her 
success  was  so  pronounced  that  the  interest  of  the 
whole  city  was  aroused  ;  and  at  the  end  of  the  week 
the  theatre  was  filled  with  enthusiastic  audiences. 

A  second  engagement  in  New  Orleans  was  quickly 
arranged.  Miss  Anderson  began  it  witli  her  first  per- 
formance of  Meg  Merrilies,  a  curious  part,  by  the  way, 
for  a  young  girl  to  play,  and  one  for  which  her  youth 
and  inexperience  unfitted  her.  She  is  saitl,  neverthe- 
less, to  have  made  up  so  perfectly  for  the  character  of 
the  old  hag,  and  to  have  acted  with  such  spirit,  that  her 
audiences  were  impressed  by  her  ability  and  versatility. 
At  the  close  of  her  secontl  engagement  in  New  Orleans, 
she  was  presented  by  General  lieauregard  with  an 
enamelled  belt,  studded  with  jewels,  the  badge  of  the 
Washington  Artillery,  and  bearing  the  inscription,  "To 
Marv  Anderson,  from  Her  I'riends  of  the  l^attalion." 

Miss  Anderson's  early  career  was  not,  as  it  is  popu- 
larly supposed  to  have  been,  all  roses.  During  her 
engagement  in  the  fall  of  1876.  in  San  Francisco, 
where  she  appearc-<l  at  John  McGullough's  theatre, 
sup|)orted  by  his  stock  company,  she  experienced  a 
dismal  failure.  The  audiences  were  cold  to  lu-r.  anil 
the  critics  treated  her  with  severity.  Ni'vertlu-less. 
John  McCullough  and  ICdwin  liooth,  who  happened  to 
be  in  the  city  at  the  time,  helped  her  with  their  interest 


56  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

and  counsel.  At  their  suggestion  she  appeared  during 
this  engagement  in  the  role  of  Parthenia,  with  which 
her  fame  was  afterwards  closely  identified. 

She  returned  home  to  suffer  another  dishearten- 
ing trial,  during  her  summer  tour  through  Kentucky 
t()wn.s,  when  her  audiences  dwindled  to  such  small 
numbers  that,  in  spite  of  her  ambition,  she  was  obliged 
to  discontinue  ])laying.  After  a  short  season  of  de- 
pression, during  which  she  almost  despaired  of  success, 
she  received  an  offer  from  John  T.  Ford,  the  Washing- 
ton manager,  to  star  under  his  direction,  and  supported 
by  his  company,  for  a  salary  of  three  hundred  dollars 
a  week.  She  accepted  it,  and  began  then  her  career 
of  unbroken  success.  For  three  years  she  travelled 
through  the  West  and  South,  winning  triumph  after 
triumph,  filling  her  manager's  coffers,  and  receiving 
the  enthusiastic  praises,  as  well  as  some  criticisms,  of 
the  press. 

On  the  1 2th  of  November  she  made  her  debut  in 
New  York,  as  Pauline  in  the  "  Lady  of  Lyons."  Her 
engagement  lasted  si.x  weeks,  during  which  she  was 
seen  as  Juliet,  Evadne,  Meg  Merrilies,  and  Parthenia. 
Her  beauty  and  talent  won  as  warm  recognition  from 
the  New  York  public  as  they  had  in  the  West,  but  she 
was  not  received  with  favor  by  several  of  the  local 
critics.  Her  experience  in  Boston  this  season  was 
very  similar  to  that  in  New  York  ;  though  the  jieople 
flocked  to  see  her,  and  applauded  her  enthusiastically, 
some  of  the  Boston  critics  subjected  her  to  severe 
treatment.  The  popular  favor,  however,  which  she 
found  in  both  these  cities  assured  her  success  in  the 
P3ast,  and  placed  her  in  the  foremost  rank  among  living 
American  actresses. 


MARY    ANDERSON.  57 

In  the  summer  of  1879  Mary  Anderson  made  lier 
first  visit  to  Europe.  She  went  with  her  young  mind 
already  broadened  by  extended  travel  in  iier  own  coun- 
try, and  made  sensitive  to  new  impressions  by  tiie 
culture  which  her  stage  career  had  given  licr.  She 
saw  the  leading  actors  of  England,  made  a  pilgrimage 
to  Stratford-on-Avon,  visited  Paris,  where  she  made  the 
acquaintance  of  Sarah  Bernhardt,  and  was  permitted 
to  enter  the  sacred  precincts  behind  the  scenes  of  the 
Theatre  Fran^ais.  She  also  met,  during  her  visit 
there,  the  celebrated  actress,  Adelaide  Ristori,  who 
heard  her  recite,  and  gave  her  warm  encouragement. 

The  next  four  years  of  Mary  Anderson's  life  were 
repetitions  of  her  first  triumphs  ;  she  adtled  to  her 
repertoire,  and  deepened  the  impression  she  had  made 
on  the  people  in  the  United  States  and  Canada.  Her 
fame  spread  from  America  to  England,  and  she  re- 
ceived a  very  flattering  offer  from  Henry  IC.  Abbey 
to  appear  under  his  management  in  London  at  Henry 
Irving's  Lyceum  Theatre.  After  some  hesitation  she 
accepted  the  offer,  and  arrangements  were  C()m|)leted 
by  which  she  was  to  make  her  London  licbiit  on  the 
1st  of  September,    i8<S3. 

The  piece  selected  for  the  occasion  was  "  Ingomar." 
This  choice  was  generally  regardeil  as  so  unfortunate, 
on  account  of  the  comparative  antiquity  and  the  stilted 
character  of  the  play,  that  it  was  feared  it  might  seri- 
ously interfere  with  her  success.  The  voung  actress 
was  so  nervous  that  she  was  almost  overcome;  but  on 
her  appearance  before  the  vast  audience  which  liad 
asiiembled  to  greet  lur,  she  was  received  with  such  a 
generous  welcome  that  courage  returned,  and  though 
not  able  to  do  herself  perfect  justice,  her  beauty,  grace, 


58  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

and  the  power  and  refinement  of  her  act  in*:;,  won  an 
unmistakable  triumph.  An  incident  occurred  a  few 
moments  after  her  first  appearance  on  the  scene,  which 
was  not  without  significance.  Unable  to  gauge  the 
size  of  the  theatre,  she  could  not  make  her  voice  heard 
distinctly  in  all  parts  of  the  house.  Suddenly,  piping 
tones  from  the  gallery  cried,  "  A  little  louder,  Mary." 
Though  she  had  not  been  warned  to  heed  the  mag- 
nates of  the  gallery,  who  are  a  great  power  in  English 
theatres,  she  wisely  obeyed  the  injunction,  and  thus 
gained  their  favor  at  the  start. 

The  American  girl's  success  in  London  is  said  to 
have  been  almost  unprecedented.  Her  audiences  were 
even  larger  than  those  of  Henry  Irving.  It  was,  per- 
haps, in  the  character  of  Galatea  that  she  was  most 
admired  ;  though  great  popularity  was  won  in  the  lead- 
ing role  of  "  Comedy  and  Tragedy,"  a  short  play  which 
W.  S.  Gilbert  had  written  for  her.  Among  her  audi- 
ences were  the  most  prominent  people  of  England. 
The  Prince  and  Princess  of  Wales  were  so  pleased 
that  they  complimented  her  in  person.  Mr.  Gladstone, 
Lord  Lytton  (Owen  Meredith),  Tennyson,  and  many 
others  of  almost  equal  repute,  became  her  friends. 
After  a  long  engagement  in  London,  slie  appeared  in 
leading  cities  of  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland,  where 
she  was  received  by  large  audiences  with  great  en- 
thusiasm. 

In  the  fall  of  1887  Miss  Anderson  returned  to 
America,  and  made  a  triumphal  tour  of  this  country. 
The  distinction  she  had  won  abroad  made  her  even 
more  popular  in  her  native  land  than  she  had  been 
before.  On  her  second  professional  visit  to  England, 
the  following  season,  she  repeated  several  of  her  old 


MARY    ANDERSON. 


59 


performances,  and  then  gave  an  elaborate  production 
of  the  "  Winter's  Tale,"  playing  the  toUs  of  Hermione 
and  Perdita,  in  both  of  which  she  found  great  favor 
from  the  public. 

The  next  season  she  returned  to  this  country,  and 
presented  this  play  here,  with  all  the  accessories  which 
had  won  distinction  for  it  abroad.  Her  season,  how- 
ever, was  suddenly  interrupted  early  in  the  spring  by 
a  serious  attack  of  illness,  which  overtook  lier  while 
she  was  playing  in  St.  Louis,  and  compelled  her  to 
abandon  work.  Her  retirement  proved  to  be  her  final 
withdrawal  from  the  stage. 

She  proceeded  to  England,  which  had  become  her 
second  home,  and  was  endeared  to  her  by  the  beauty 
of  its  scenery,  and  by  the  ties  of  friendship  she  had 
formed  there.  In  a  few  months  she  regained  her 
health,  and  in  the  summer  of  1890  she  was  married  to 
Mr.  Antonio  Navarro  of  New  York.  Siie  is  now  living 
quietly  in  England,  and  has  forever  abandoned  the 
stage.  In  the  literary  field  her  autobiography,  pub- 
lished in    1896,  has  proved  an  interesting  work. 

It  would  be  futile  at  this  time  to  attempt  to  assign 
to  Mary  Anderson  a  place  in  the  history  of  dramatic 
art.  Hut  it  is  not  unrea.sonable  to  say  that  her  place 
will  not  be  among  the  immortals,  —  if  tlie  fame  of  any 
actor,  however  great,  may  be  said  to  bj  immortal, — 
with  Siddons,  Cushman,  or  Adelaide  Neilsou.  How- 
ever effective  she  may  have  been  in  certain  parts,  her 
acting  was  never  absolutely  convincing.  What  is  genius 
in  an  actor  except  the  ability  to  convince  the  spectator 
that  his  performance  is  an  artistic  reality  }  Mary  An- 
derson is  remembered  now  fi»r  the  two  (pialities  which 
contributed   most  to  her  popularity,  —  beauty  and   de- 


6o  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

clamatory  power,  both  of  which,  by  an  apparent  para- 
dox, prevented  her  from  winning  ultimate  success. 
Her  beauty  was  so  conspicuous  that  it  tended  rather 
to  obscure  than  to  intensify  the  impression  her  work 
made  upon  the  public,  ever  more  ready  to  pay  homage 
to  the  lovely  woman  than  the  actress ;  and  her  declama- 
tion was  so  powerful  that  it  attracted  attention  to  itself, 
and  took  the  performer  out  of  the  dramatic  jiicture. 

Mary  Anderson  possessed  all  the  materiel  of  a  great 
artist,  except  the  soul.  If  the  spirit  of  the  I^Vench 
tragedienne,  Rachel,  which  was  too  strong  for  the 
feeble  body,  could  have  been  breathed  into  her,  she 
would  have  become  the  greatest  of  modern  actresses ; 
but,  lacking  soul,  she  consequently  lacked  plasticity, 
which  is  an  essential  attribute  of  the  truly  great  artist. 
It  is  true  that  she  gained  in  plasticity  as  she  developed 
with  experience,  but  she  never  attained  to  a  high 
degree  that  mobility  of  motion  and  expression  which 
is  so  conspicuous  in  the  art  of  Sarah  Bernhardt. 

Her  deficiency  in  this  regard  was  very  marked  in 
the  role  of  Clarice,  in  "Comedy  and  Tragedy,"  which, 
though  short,  runs  the  whole  gamut  of  human  emotion. 
In  it  Mary  Anderson  displayed  her  inability  to  free 
herself  from  her  own  refined  personality,  and  to  assume 
the  brazen  manner  of  one  who  pretended  to  be  dissolute. 
In  the  "  Winter's  Tale "  she  showed,  as  Hermione, 
how  admirable  she  could'  be  as  an  elocutionist  without 
being  admirable  as  an  actress  ;  and  as  Perdita,  how  de- 
lightful an  actress  she  could  become  by  adopting  an 
absolute  simplicity  of  style.  In  spite  of  her  defects, 
however,  she  must  be  credited  with  having  given  to 
the  modern  stage  one  ideal  jjcrformance,  —  that  of  Gala- 
tea.     Her  acting  in    this   role   was   the  perfection   of 


MARY    ANDERSON.  6 1 

naturalness  and  grace.  It  alone  ought  to  win  for  her 
the  admiration  and  gratitude  of  all  lovers  of  the  drama. 
She  has  also  left  to  the  stage  the  tradition  of  a  large 
number  of  brilliant,  if  not  great,  impersonations. 

Her  influence  on  the  theatre  was  for  its  good.  She 
gave  pleasure  to  huntlreds  of  thousands  of  pcoj^le,  many 
of  whom  learneil  through  her  to  apj^reciatc  the  beauty 
of  Shakespeare's  women.  She  sought  in  her  brief 
career,  notably  during  the  last  few  years  of  it,  to  pro- 
duce the  best  plays  and  in  the  best  way.  lUit  most 
notable  of  all,  for  it  is  a  noble  tribute  to  the  influence 
of  the  stage  on  those  who  pursue  the  profession  of 
acting  with  a  high  purpose,  her  career  was  marked  by 
a  steady  develo])ment,  not  merely  in  her  art,  but  in 
her  character  and  intellect  as  well.  She  entered  the 
theatre  an  unsophisticated  girl,  and  left  it  a  mature 
woman,  whose  best  qualities  of  mind  and  heart  had 
been  ftjstered  by  it. 


LAWRENCE    BARRETT. 

By  H.  E.  Woolf, 


In  January,  1857,  one  Mrs.  Denis  MacMahon  be- 
gan an  engagement  at  Burton's  old  Chambers  Street 
Theatre  in  New  York.  She  was  a  stage-struck  debu- 
tante of  a  certain  social  distinction  ;  but  she  made  no 
very  great  impression,  and  disappeared  from  public 
view  shortly  after.  Her  opening  play  was  "The 
Hunchback,"  and  as  Julia  she  was  subjected  to  some 
exceedingly  harsh  criticism  that  was  not  undeserved. 
Not  so  the  performer  who  enacted  Sir  Thomas  Clifford. 
He  was  a  young  man,  nineteen  years  of  age,  lean  of 
figure,  haggard  of  face,  and  not  over  graceful  in  bear- 
ing ;  but  he  at  once  attracted  attention  by  the  purity 
of  his  elocution,  the  vigor  with  which  he  threw  him- 
self into  the  part,  and  tlie  intensity  of  feeling  that 
characterized  his  acting  generally.  The  critics  next 
morning  spoke  of  him  in  terms  of  warm  praise,  and 
pronounced  him  a  rough  diamond  that  would  shine 
with  the  purest  lustre  when  duly  polished. 

No  one  had  heard  of  him  in  New  York  before,  but 
from  that  moment  he  was  never  forgotten.  His  name 
was  Lawrence  Patrick  Barrett ;  and  he  was  born  of  Irish 
parents  in  Paterson,  N.J.,  April  14,  1838.  They  were 
in  poor  circumstances,  and  could  give  him  few  opportu- 

62 


LAWRENCE    BARRETT. 


LAWRENCE    BARRETT.  63 

nities  to  acquire  an  education  ;  in  fact,  so  narrow  were 
their  circumstances  financially,  that  he  was  called  on 
when  a  mere  boy  to  seek  employment  that  he  mi<^ht 
add  his  quota  to  the  scant  income  of  his  family.  His 
parents  had  moved  from  Paterson  to  Detroit  ;  and  it 
was  there,  as  an  errand-boy  in  a  dry-goods  store,  that 
he  earned  his  first  salary. 

Through  the  exertions  of  some  friends  who  were  in- 
terested in  the  leaning  he  manifested  toward  the  stajre, 
he  obtained  employment  as  call-boy  at  the  Metropoli- 
tan Theatre  in  Detroit,  at  the  not  encouraging  salary 
of  §2.50  a  week.  Thenceforward  he  devoted  himself 
heart  and  soul  to  the  theatre.  lie  was  naturally  an 
intelligent  lad,  but  his  path  was  an  arduous  one;  for 
at  the  age  of  fourteen  he  could  scarcely  read,  and  had 
not  mastered  more  than  the  rudiments  of  writing.  It 
is  a  repetition  of  an  old,  old  story,  in  which  tireless 
study,  constant  labor,  and  self-denial  under  discoura- 
ging conditions,  win  in  the  battle  of  life.  .This  young 
man  became  eventually  a  well-cultivated  scholar  of 
wide  reading  that  he  had  thoroughly  digested  and 
assimilated,  a  master  of  the  whole  field  of  English  lit- 
erature, and  an  authority  on  all  that  related  to  the 
history  of  the  stage. 

While  officiating  as  call-boy  in  the  Detroit  Theatre, 
he  enlisted  the  attention  of  the  manager,  who  had  over- 
heard him  reciting  speeches  from  Shakespeare  for  the 
amusement  of  his  companions  ;  and  he  was  at  last  in- 
trusted with  the  modost  part  of  Murad  in  "  Tiie  l''rencii 
Spy."  He  bore  himself  so  earnestly  and  creditably  in 
it  that  he  was  from  time  to  time  cast  in  other  small 
parts.  He  was  then  fifteen  years  of  age.  I  le  remained 
in  Detroit  for  another  year,  and  then  removed  to  Pitts- 


64  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF    TO-DAY. 

burg,  where  he  became  a  member  of  the  Grand  Opera 
House  stock  company,  at  the  time  under  the  manage- 
ment of  Joseph  Foster. 

During  this  period  he  had  risen  to  parts  of  impor- 
tance, and  his  progress  in  his  art  was  equally  marked 
and  rapid.  Declining  offers  of  a  renewal  of  his  en- 
gagement for  another  season,  he  went  to  New  York. 
He  had  no  definite  plans,  and  his  prospects  were  not 
encouraging.  When  his  spirits  were  at  their  lowest, 
and  his  courage  failing,  he  received  the  offer  to  sup- 
jiort  Mrs.  MacMahon,  and,  as  has  been  already  stated, 
made  an  admirable  impression  as  Sir  Thomas  Clifford 
in  "The  Hunchback."  During  the  four  weeks  that  tliis 
engagement  lasted,  Mr.  Barrett  appeared  in  a  variety 
of  parts,  among  them  Fazio,  Ingomar,  Armand  Duval, 
Claude  Melnotte,  and  The  Stranger.  Two  months 
later  he  was  engaged  by  Burton  for  his  new  theatre, 
the  Metropolitan,  afterward  known  as  the  Winter  Gar- 
den ;  and  on  March  2,  1857,  and  when  scarcely  nine- 
teen years  old,  he  appeared  there  as  Matthew  Bates  in 
Douglas  Jerrold's  comedy,  "Time  Tries  All."  Three 
months  after  Barrett's  advent  at  the  Metropolitan, 
Edwin  Booth,  fresh  from  his  triumphant  engagement 
in  California,  began  an  engagement  at  this  house  ;  and 
the  two  young  men,  both  on  the  threshold  of  their 
great  careers,  acted  together  for  the  first  time 

In  1858  Mr.  Barrett  joined  the  company  at  the  Bos- 
ton Museum  as  its  leading  man.  Here  he  met  with 
hearty  appreciation,  and  during  the  two  years  of  his 
stay  at  this  house  he  played  a  great  variety  of  parts  ; 
but  neither  in  New  York  nor  in  Boston  had  he,  up 
to  this  time,  aroused  any  enthusiasm  as  an  actor.  He 
was  lacking  in  what  is  called  personal  magnetism  ;  and 


LAWRENCE    BARRETT.  65 

the  precision  of  his  elocution  was  considered  j^edantic, 
monotonous,  and  wanting  in  truth  to  nature.  These 
qualities,  however,  continued  with  him  to  the  last.  He 
remained  two  seasons  at  the  Museum,  and  then  went 
to  the  Howard  Athcnreum,  in  the  same  city,  where, 
under  the  management  of  E.  L.  Davenport,  who  had 
gathered  about  him  a  notably  fine  company,  he  ap- 
peared in  a  large  range  of  characters.  The  outbreak 
of  the  war  unsettled  theatrical  affairs  ;  and  on  the  first 
call  for  soldiers,  Mr.  Barrett  enlisted,  and  served  as 
captain  of  a  company  in  the  Twenty-eighth  Massachu- 
setts Volunteers,  from  October,  1861,  to  August,  1863. 
Returning  home,  he  joined  the  company  at  the  Walnut 
Street  Theatre,  Philadelphia,  remaining  with  it  for 
three  months,  after  which  he  accepted  an  engagement 
in  Washington.  Thence  he  returned  to  Philadelphia, 
this  time  to  the  Chestnut  Street  Theatre,  where  he 
acted  again  in  support  of  Edwin  Booth. 

Barrett  was  now  twenty-five  years  old,  and  burning 
with  ambition  to  win  fame  as  an  interpreter  of  the 
principal  roles  in  the  standard  tragetlies.  About  this 
time  Edwin  liooth  made  liarrett  an  offer  to  l>lay  the 
opposite  parts  to  him  in  an  important  engagement  at 
the  Winter  Garden.  Simultaneously  he  received  a 
proposition  to  enter  into  partnership  with  Mr.  Lewi.s 
Baker  in  the  management  of  the  Varieties  Theatre, 
the  leading  play-house  of  New  Orleans.  Mr.  liarretl 
did  not  hesitate  long  in  closing  witii  thi:  latter  offer, 
as  it  afforded  him  the  long-wished-for  opportunity  to 
enact  the  line  of  parts  that  ha<l  hitherto  ckulrd  him. 
He  began  the  active  management  of  the  X'arirties  in 
the  fall  of  1863,  and  continued  it  for  thirty  wicks.  In 
the    course   of   this  season   he    |)erformed  sonu*  of  the 


66  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

great  parts  tliat  he  had  so  deeply  and  continuously 
studied,  among  them  RicheHeu,  Hamlet,  and  Shylock. 
His  success  though  not  overwhelming  was,  neverthe- 
less, flattering.  His  great  triumph  of  this  period  of 
his  career  was  as  Elliot  Grey  in  Lester  Wallack's 
"  Rosedale."  The  season  was  brought  to  a  sudden 
close  by  the  destruction  of  the  theatre  by  fire  ;  and 
then  Mr.  Barrett  made  his  first  essay  as  a  star,  ai)pear- 
ing  in  the  fall  of  1864  in  "  Rosedale,"  at  Pike's  Opera 
House,  Cincinnati.  With  this  play  he  had  a  profitable 
season,  and  it  was  his  chief  attraction  in  1 865-1 866. 

He  paid  a  visit  to  England  iii  the  summer  of  1866, 
but  did  not  act.  A  year  later  he  repeated  the  visit, 
under  an  engagement  to  play  in  Liverpool  for  one 
week.  He  had  several  offers  to  act  in  other  cities  ;  but 
as  the  terms  and  the  conditions  were  unsatisfactory,  he 
did  not  accept  them,  and  returned  home  in  December, 
1867,  under  an  engagement  to  open  at  Maguire's  Opera 
House,  San  Francisco,  Feb.  17,  186S.  The  character 
chosen  by  him  for  his  dSu/  there  was  Handet,  and  his 
success  was  decided  ;  so  much  so,  that  the  engagement 
was  extended  to  eleven  weeks,  during  the  whole  of 
which  term  it  was  prosperous.  His  ne.\t  move  was  to 
open  the  new  California  Theatre,  under  joint  manage- 
ment with  John  McCullough.  The  season  began  Jan. 
18,  1869,  and  continued  during  twenty  months,  witli  a 
success  hitherto  unprecedented  in  San  Francisco.  Bar- 
rett became  an  immense  favorite  there  ;  but  the  cares 
of  management  were  not  favorable  to  his  ambition  to 
carve  out  an  individual  art  career  for  himself ;  so  he 
sold  out  his  share  in  the  house  to  Mr.  McCullough, 
and  set  forth  on  a  starring  tour  in  the  summer  of  1870, 
opening  at  Niblo's  Garden,  New  York,  then  under  the 


LAWRENCE    BARRETT.  67 

direction  of  Messrs.  Jarrett  and  Palmer.  Here  was  the 
real  turnini^-point  in  his  life,  and  from  this  time  for- 
ward his  fame  steadily  increased. 

In  the  course  of  this  engagement  at  Niblo's,  "  Julius 
Caesar"  was  revived,  with  a  strong  cast,  Mr.  l^arrctt 
enacting Cassius;  Mr.  K.  L.  Davenport,  Brutus;  Walter 
Montgomery,  Antony  ;  and  Mark  Smith,  Casca.  It 
was  in  this  tragedy  that  Mr.  l^arrett  made  the  most 
pronounced  hit  of  his  career  up  to  that  time.  In 
December  of  the  same  year  he  joined  Edwin  l^ooth 
at  his  new  theatre  on  Twenty-third  Street,  and  played 
opposite  characters  to  him  through  an  engagement  of 
four  months.  On  June  5,  1871,  he  played  for  the  first 
time  Harebell  in  "The  Man  O'  Airlie,"  a  character 
with  which  his  name  became  brilliantly  associated,  and 
which  he  enacted  for  four  weeks.  In  the  same  year  he 
was  invited  to  assume  the  management  of  the  Varieties 
Theatre  in  New  Orleans,  a  new  l)uilding  having  been 
erected.  He  accepted  ;  and  in  December,  1871,  the 
house  was  opened  with  Albery's  "  The  C<)C|uettes," 
with  great  success.  Then  came  an  offer  from  ICdwin 
Booth  for  Mr.  Barrett  to  appear  as  Cassius  in  a  spec- 
tacular revival  of  "Julius  Caesar,"  which  he  did  not 
think  it  wise  to  decline.  He  returned  to  New  York; 
and  on  Christmas  night,  1871,  he  received  a  hearty 
welcome  back  to  the  stage,  on  wiiich  he  had  recently 
made  so  proftjund  an  impression.  The  i)lay  was  given 
to  immense  audiences  at  liooth's  Theatr<-'  for  nearly 
three  months;  but  Mr.  liarrett  did  not  remain  after 
Feb.  17,  1872,  being  called  to  New  Orleans  to  look 
after  the  affairs  of  the  theatre  there,  which  were  in 
some  confusion.  He  reajipeared  tiiere  March  4,  1872, 
us  Hamlet.     Owing  to  mismanagement  in  his  absence, 


68  FAMOUS   AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAV. 

he  was  obliged  to  assume  the  whole  financial  responsi- 
bility of  the  house,  which  he  had  on  a  five  years'  lease, 
and  sunk  $57,000,  which  he  was  unable  to  pay  in  full 
for  many  years.  He  returnetl  as  a  star  to  the  Cali- 
fornia Theatre  in  the  summer  of  1873,  and  played  there 
an  engagement  whose  success  was  without  precedent 
on  the  Pacific  coast.  In  1 873-1 874  he  starred  through 
the  country  in  the  standard  tragedies.  In  1875  he 
again  enacted  Cassius  for  nearly  three  months  in  cu- 
other  splendid  revival  of  "Julius  Caesar,"  in  Booth's 
Theatre,  New  York. 

Mr.  Barrett  was  now  at  the  flood-tide  of  his  profes- 
sional activity,  and  in  the  tiiird  and  most  important 
period  of  his  artistic  career.  To  chronicle  his  journey- 
ings  would  be  merely  to  give  a  dry  record  of  dates  and 
cities.  The  leading  events  of  his  theatrical  life,  how- 
ever, must  be  mentioned.  On  Oct.  11,  1877,  he  pro- 
duced in  Cincinnati  '*  A  Counterfeit  Presentment," 
by  William  Dean  Howells,  and  in  1878,  at  the  Park 
Theatre,  New  York,  presented  "  Yorick's  Love," 
adapted  from  the  Spanish  by  the  same  eminent  novel- 
ist. He  produced  "  Pendragon  "  in  Chicago,  Dec.  5, 
1881,  and  Sept.  14,  1882,  brought  out  "  Francesca  da 
Rimini"  at  the  Chestnut  Street  Theatre,  Philadeljihia  ; 
and  when  he  acted  the  hunchback  Lanciotlo  in  New 
York  next  season,  at  the  Star  Theatre,  it  was  for  nine 
consecutive   weeks. 

In  March,  1884,  he  sailed  for  London  to  begin  a 
seven  weeks'  engagement,  A[>ril  14,  at  Henry  Irving's 
Lyceum  Theatre,  Mr.  Irving  being  in  the  United 
States  on  his  first  tour.  His  </Sf//  was  made  as 
Yorick,  before  a  splendid  audience  ;  but  he  failed  to 
attract   large  audiences,  though   he   won   much   praise 


LAWRENCE    HARRETr.  69 

and  esteem  from  the  more  critical.  He  returneil  home 
to  resume  starring  through  the  principal  cities.  Then 
came  his  professional  union  with  Edwin  Booth,  which 
began  at  Buffalo,  Sept.  12,  1887.  This  joining  of 
interests  by  the  two  tragedians  was  receivetl  with  un- 
bounded enthusiasm,  and  the  season  was  one  of  enor- 
mous pecuniary  profit.  In  the  following  season  the 
two  artists  were  not  together,  though  Mr.  Bo(jth  playetl 
under  Barrett's  management  with  Madame  Modjeska. 
In  that  season  Mr.  Barrett  produced  "  Ganelon,"  in 
Chicago  ;  but  his  tour  was  interrupted  by  bad  health. 
In  the  summer  of  1890  he  rejoined  Mr.  Booth,  both 
appearing  in  a  round  of  the  now  familiar  plays.  His 
health  again  began  to  trouble  him,  but  he  still  remained 
in  the  traces.  On  Monday  night,  Marcli  16,  1891,  the 
Booth-Barrett  combination  began  the  eleventh  and 
last  week  of  its  engagement  at  the  Broadway  Theatre, 
New  York.  The  play  was  "  Riciielieu."  Mr.  Booth 
was  announced  to  appear  in  tiie  title  part,  and  Mr. 
Barrett  as  Adrian  de  Mauprat.  Mr.  l^arrett  could  not 
be  i)resent,  as  he  was  suffering  from  what  was  be- 
lieved to  be  a  slight  coUl.  His  i)art  was  assumed  by 
another  artist.  On  Tuestlav  evening  the  plav  was 
repeated,  and  Mr.  l^arrett  was  i)romptly  at  his  post 
and  without  any  sign  of  illness.  On  Wednesday  even- 
ing he  again  appeared  as  I)e  Mauprat  ;  but  at  the 
close  of  the  third  act  he  broke  down,  and  another 
performer  was  called  on  to  act  the  rein^iining  scenes 
of  the  part.  Mr.  Barrett  was  taken  home;  and  <>n 
Friday  night,  March  20,  he  succumbed  to  an  attack 
of  pneumonia,  complicated  by  an  old  trouble  in  the 
glands  of  his  throat.  He  was  fifty-three  years  old  at 
the  time  of   his   death.      His  remains  were  buried   by 


70  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAV. 

the  side  of  those  of  his  father  in  Cohasset  Cemetery. 
He  left  behind  him  a  wife  with  whom  he  had  lived  hap- 
pily for  thirty-two  years,  and  three  dau<^hters,  —  Mary 
Agnes,  now  the  liaroness  von  Roder  ;  Anna  Gertrude, 
who  is  tiie  wife  of  Joseph  Anderson,  a  brother  of  Mary 
Anderson  ;  and  Kdith,  who  is  now  Mrs.  Marshall  Wil- 
liams. 

As  an  actor,  Mr.  l^arrett  had  always  to  struggle 
against  the  disadvantages  of  a  slight  figure  and  a  not 
very  imjjosing  presence.  His  voice  was  full  and  sono- 
rous, but  was  somewhat  unmanageable  in  regard  to 
variety  in  tone  and  expression.  His  eyes  were  large 
and  piercing,  and  responded  readily  to  the  emotions  he 
depicted  ;  but  his  powers  of  facial  eloquence  were  not 
flexible.  His  enunciation  was  faultlessly  clear  and  re- 
fined. He  was  a  born  elocutionist ;  and  so  much  stress 
did  he  lay  on  precision  in  pronunciation  and  in  delib- 
eration in  declamation,  that  the  effect  of  sincerity  in 
feeling  was  often  absent  from  his  acting,  and  an  impres- 
sion of  pedantic  and  unemotional  dryness  conveyed. 
He  was  at  his  best  in  scenes  of  fiery  passion,  of  sup- 
pressed anger,  and  of  cold  and  biting  sarcasm.  His 
pathos  was  not,  as  the  rule,  convincing  ;  though  as 
Harebell,  in  "The  Man  O'  Airlie,"  he  reached  a  point 
of  searching  and  impressive  tenderness  that  found  no 
such  potent  exemplification  in  any  of  his  other  assump- 
tions. He  was  a  scholarly  artist  in  the  most  refined 
sense  of  the  word,  and  the  dignity  of  his  art  was 
always  uppermost  in  his  mind  ;  but  it  is  to  be  doubted 
if  he  was,  on  the  whole,  an  actor  whose  methods  ap- 
pealed strongly  to  the  sympathies  of  his  audiences. 
They  admired  and  applauded  the  intellectuality  that 
was  clearly  apparent  in  all  that  he  did  ;  but  their  hearts 


LAWRENCE    BARKETl".  7  I 

were  rarely  touched,  especially  in  his  performance  of 
Shakespearian  parts. 

Perhaps  his  most'  perfect,  as  it  was  his  most  elabo- 
rate, assumption  was  Yorick.  The  growth  of  jealousy 
in  the  unhappy  actor,  from  its  dawning  suspicions  to  its 
culmination  in  a  frenzy  of  fury,  was  nobly  depicted. 
Notably  fine  was  his  acting  in  the  scene  in  which, 
by  taunts  and  goads,  contempt  and  cunning,  Yorick  at 
length  discovers  the  cruel  truth  of  which  he  is  in  search. 
Another  brilliant  effort  was  his  Lanciotto  in  "  Fran- 
cesca  da  Rimini."  The  stormy  conflict  of  emotions 
that  never  cease  in  the  heart  of  the  misshapen  sufferer, 
the  heroism,  the  morbitlness,  the  tender  affection,  the 
bitter  hate,  the  smarting  under  the  jesting  taunts  of 
the  fool,  the  mingling  of  savagery  and  sweetness  of 
nature,  were  all  portrayed  with  power  of  the  first 
order.  Neither  in  this  part  nor  in  Yorick  was  there 
much  opportunity  for  set  and  reflective  elocution  ;  and 
the  result  was  a  freedom,  a  sweeping  impulse,  an  effect 
of  spontaneity  in  feeling  and  in  action,  in  which  Mr. 
Barrett's  acting  of  less  vehement  parts  was  rarely  pro- 
lific. Me  steadily  ripened  in  style  ;  and  it  may  be 
said  justly  of  him,  that  the  longer  he  acted  the  more 
he  broadened  and  imj^roved,  and  that  he  was  never 
more  worthy  to  wear  the  laurels  for  which  he  struggled 
so  hard  and  constantly  than  he  was  at  the  moment 
when  death  claimed  him. 


MME.   MODJESKA. 

By  Charles  E.  L.  Wingate. 


There  was  no  sign  of  excitement,  little  sign  of 
interest,  about  the  California  Theatre  on  the  opening 
night  of  that  week  in  the  year  1877  when  an  unknown 
Polish  actress  made  her  American  debut.  Why  should 
the  public  notice  such  an  event?  What  if  the  actress 
was  heralded  as  a  countess?  There  had  been  other 
titled  players  upon  the  stage.  What  if  she  was  re- 
ported to  have  been  the  leatling  actress  in  the  city  of 
Warsaw  ?  Warsaw  was  a  far-away  place,  with  little 
of  that  influence  for  giving  reputation  which  belongs 
to  Paris  t)r  London.  No  wonder  a  mere  sprinkling  of 
listeners  sat  in  the  auditorium  when  the  curtain  rose 
upon  the  first  act  of  "  Adrienne  Lecouvreur."  No  won- 
der the  critics,  as  one  of  them  has  confessed,  thought 
their  duty  would  be  adequately  performed  if  they 
should  stroll  in  for  a  few  minutes  after  the  play  was 
well  under  way.     The  wonder  came  afterwards. 

Before  this  unknown,  unsympathetic  audience,  an 
actress  was  to  appear,  and,  with  such  command  of  the 
English  language  as  but  a  few  months  study  could  give, 
was  so  ably  to  act  the  role  of  Adrienne  as  to  draw 
enthusiastic  applause  at  every  scene,  and  a  final  burst 
of  admiration  that  left  its  echoes  ringing  till  the  next 

72 


MME.    MODJESKA. 


MME.  MODJESKA.  73 

morning  and  the  next  week.  There  were  no  more  cold 
greetings  when  the  curtain  rose  in  after  nights,  and 
audiences  and  manager  alike  felt  the  cheering  effect  of 
the  presence  of  genius. 

From  that  day  Madame  Modjeska's  success  upon  the 
American  stage  was  assured.  Travelling  as  a  star,  at 
first  with  the  poor  company  which  the  exigencies  of 
the  time  made  necessary,  and  afterwards  with  the 
admirable  company  which  her  own  high  artistic  taste 
demanded,  Madame  Modjeska  became  recognized  as  a 
leading  exponent  of  Shakespearian  roles.  It  would  not 
be  hard  to  discover  reasons  for  placing  her  in  the  first 
rank  of  classic  actresses  in  America.  We  cannot  har- 
monize our  ideals  with  her  ultra-refined  Camille  and  her 
dainty  Rosalind,  but  at  the  same  time  we  must  admit 
that  this  same  refinement  and  this  same  daintiness  in 
other  roles  have  made  them  so  winsome  as  fairly  to 
command  popular  favor.  Although  the  personality  of 
Madame  Modjeska  is  charming,  with  her  graceful  fig- 
ure, her  beautiful  face,  and  her  sweetly  modulated  voice, 
yet  this  is  not  the  attribute  to  which  her  success  is 
due.  The  auditor  has  been  drawn  by  that  magnetism 
which  comes  from  warm,  enthusiastic  absorption  in 
the  character  of  the  moment,  and  from  the  consequent 
natural  expression  of  all  the  passions  of  a  woman's 
heart.  Coldly  studying  the  role  of  the  night,  one  feels 
that  each  mov^ement  and  inflection  has  been  planned 
with  the  mind  of  a  careful  student  ;  but,  even  as  he 
watches,  his  enforced  coldness  must  disappear,  and  the 
subsequent  warmth  of  sympathy  conceals  the  conscien- 
tious actress,  and  reveals  only  the  fictional  woman,  with 
all  her  sorrows  and  joys,  loves  and  hates. 

Madame  Modjeska's  devotion  to  the  master  dramatist 


74  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF    TO-DAY. 

of  the  Eiii^lish  stage  has  been  life-long.  The  daughter 
of  a  Polish  mountaineer  of  eultivation,  she  passed  her 
early  years  in  Cracow,  surrounded  by  the  lasting  influ- 
ences of  artistic  life.  The  name  of  Helena  had  been 
bestowed  upon  this  youngest  daughter  of  Michael 
Opido  by  reason  of  her  small  Greek  head,  suggesting 
the  Greek  name.  Her  mother  was  of  a  domestic 
nature  ;  and  although  two  sons  had  taken  up  the  actors 
career,  and  another  had  become  a  professor  of  music, 
it  was  not  deemed  best  that  Helena  should  follow  her 
inclination  for  a  theatrical  life  until  she  had  completed 
her  education  at  a  convent. 

Twice  only  in  her  first  fourteen  years  had  Helena 
seen  the  inside  of  a  play-house.  Her  first  visit,  at  the 
age  of  seven,  is  said  to  have  had  such  influence  upon 
her  imitative  mind  that,  in  view  of  the  success  of  the 
air-cleaving  nymph  in  the  ballet,  the  young  lady  at 
home  attempted,  with  the  aid  of  heaped-up  kettles  and 
saucepans,  to  make  the  same  essay  into  air  —  only  to 
fall  into  a  disaster  necessitating  the  speedy  presence  of 
the  mother.  But  more  serious  troubles  were  at  hand. 
Fire  swept  away  the  half  of  Cracow ;  and  in  the  flames 
disappeared  not  only  the  home  of  Opido's  widow  and 
children,  but  also  the  houses  on  which  depended  the 
family  income.  It  was  necessary  then  that  all  should 
earn  their  living;  and,  after  Helena's  education  was 
finished,  .she  was  allowed  to  take  up  with  the  stage. 
She  saw  "Hamlet"  performed,  and  thenceforth  there 
was  no  dramatist  so  dear  to  her  as  Shakespeare. 
Goethe  and  Schiller,  Corneille  and  Moliere,  were  not 
neglected  ;  but  the  English  master  claimed  her  chief 
adoration. 

To  the  Polish  actress  America  owes  much  because 


MME,   MODJESKA.  75 

of  this  same  devotion  to  the  Shakespearian  drama. 
Here  Madame  Modjeska  has  acted  not  only  such  parts 
as  Juliet,  Rosalind,  and  Viola,  but  also  the  rarely  per- 
formed roles  of  Julia  in  "The  Two  Gentlemen  of 
Verona,"  Imogen  in  "Cymbeline,"  and  Isabella  in 
"Measure  for  Measure."  She  has  instructeil  as  well 
as  entertained,  displaying  the  beauties  of  the  rare  gems 
as  well  as  pouring  new  light  upon  the  familiar  jewels 
of  the  actor's  crown.  As  Juliet  to  the  Romeo  of  Mdwin 
Booth,  Madame  Modjeska  appeared  at  the  final  per- 
formance in  the  ill-fated  Booth's  Theatre  of  New 
York;  and  her  address  on  the  30th  of  April,  1883, 
was  the  last  speech  uttereil  ui)on  the  stage  where, 
fourteen  years  before,  the  Romeo  and  Juliet  of  lulwin 
Booth  and  Mary  McVicker  had  seemed  to  inaugurate  a 
glorious  career. 

Another  notable  Shakespearian  performance  in  which 
Madame  Modjeska  took  leading  part  was  the  testimo- 
nial to  Lester  Wallack  at  the  .Metropolitan  Opera 
House  in  New  York,  May  2r,  188S,  when  "Hamlet" 
was  jiroduced  with  Edwin  Booth  as  Hamlet,  Madame 
Modjeska  as  Ophelia,  Lawrence  Barrett  as  the  Ghost; 
and  Joseph  Jefferson  and  \V.  J.  Florence  as  the  Grave- 
diggers.  A  little  more  than  a  year  after  this  latter 
production,  Madame  Modjeska  was  associated  with  Mr. 
Booth  in  a  starring  tour,  and  was  playing  Portia,  Bea- 
trice,  Lady  Macbeth,  and  Ophelia. 

This  professional  union  with  America's  greatest  actor 
is  the  more  interesting  from  a  fact  but  little  known  ; 
it  was  the  culmination  of  one  of  Madame  Modjeska's 
most  ardent  desires  when  she  first  entered  upon  her 
American  carei-r.  While  farming  in  California,  before 
she  made  her  essav  on  the   .San    I'ranciseo  stagi",  she 


76  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF    TO-DAY. 

saw  Edwin  Booth  act,  and,  delighted  with  his  dramatic 
skill,  sought  the  privilege  of  playing  Ophelia  in  her 
own  tongue  to  his  Hamlet.  An  interview  ensued  ;  and 
the  actress,  whose  powers,  it  must  be  remembered, 
were  then  totally  unknown  in  this  land,  read  so  effec- 
tively scenes  from  various  plays  as  to  arouse  the  en- 
thusiasm of  every  auditor  in  the  room.  Mr.  Booth 
could  not  spare  time  for  the  rehearsals  needed  for  a 
union  performance ;  but  he  so  earnestly  urged  the 
reader  to  study  for  the  English-speaking  stage,  that 
she  undertook  the  task.  Eleven  years  later  her  early 
ambition  of  playing  Ophelia  to  Booth's  Hamlet  was 
realized. 

But  in  this  chat  of  her  American  successes  we  have 
neglected  the  story  of  her  early  struggles  in  her  native 
land.  For  several  years  her  path  was  far  from  easy. 
Married  at  the  age  of  sixteen  to  her  guardian,  who, 
much  older  than  the  bride,  had  been  selected  by  her 
mother,  Helena  became  Madame  Modrzejewska  (a 
name  contracted  in  America  to  Modjeska)  ;  and  a  year 
later,  in  1861,  made  her  debut  upon  the  stage  as  one 
of  a  company  of  actors  in  Bochnia.  Then  at  the  head 
of  a  small  troupe  she  travelled,  amid  most  discouraging 
surroundings,  through  the  towns  of  her  native  land, 
until  finally,  in  1865,  she  was  accepted  as  an  actress 
at  the  theatre  in  Cracow,  and  there  at  once  secured 
recognition.  Three  years  later,  in  September,  1868, 
she  became  the  wife  of  Count  Charles  Bozenta  Chla- 
powski,  and  that  same  autumn  won  at  the  Imperial 
Theatre  in  Warsaw  a  success  which  in  another  year 
was  to  lead  to  her  engagement  for  life  as  leading  lady 
of  this  foremost  theatre  of  Poland.  It  was  as  Adrienne 
Lecouvreur  that  Madame  Modjeska  made  her  debut  at 


MME.  MODJESKA,  77 

Warsav/,  as  well  as  in  America.  Both  occasions  were 
turning-points  in  her  life.  In  Warsaw  there  was  much 
contention  over  the  "starring"  scheme  introduced  by 
the  management ;  and  had  not  Madame  Modjeska,  the 
new  actress,  proved  herself  a  genius,  she  would  have 
been  overthrown  by  the  opponents  of  the  system,  who 
cared  little  for  her  ambition  at  that  time,  and  cared 
much  for  their  cherished  hobbies.  She  conquered 
active  resistance  at  Warsaw,  just  as  she  conquered 
passive  coldness  in  America  nine  years  afterwards. 

Madame  Modjeska's  love  of  fatherland  was  ever  ear- 
nest, and  her  marriage  to  Count  Bozenta  united  con- 
genial patriots.  He,  a  nephew  of  a  leader  of  the 
Polish  uprising  of  1830,  and  a  grandnephew  of  Gen- 
eral Chlapowski,  aide-de-camp  to  Napoleon,  was  a  vig- 
orous political  writer  for  the  periodical  press  until  the 
peace  of  his  family  in  Warsaw  demanded  that  he 
throw  aside  the  pen,  with  its  magnetism  towards  the 
prison-cell,  and  engage  in  business  life.  She,  imbued 
with  most  unselfish  patriotism,  refused  an  excellent 
offer  from  the  Austrian  stage  at  the  time  the  Polish 
insurrection  occurred,  and  struggled  vigorously  against 
the  censorship  of  Russia  over  the  Polish  theatre.  Even 
within  a  few  years  the  Russian  government  felt  so  fear- 
ful of  her  influence  that,  in  her  summer  tour  through 
her  native  land,  the  officials  prohii)ited  the  exliibition 
of  her  portraits  in  Warsaw,  forbade  the  students  from 
attending  her  performances  in  a  body,  ami  even  closed 
the  Polish  theatre  in  St.  Petersburg  just  before  her 
opening  night. 

It  was  in  1876  that  Madame  Modjeska  came  to 
America.  She  left  Warsaw  because  of  physical  ex- 
haustion from  constant  work,  and  of  mental  weariness 


78  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

at  petty,  but  troublesome,  attacks  from  envious  players 
and  writers.  Although  nominally  on  leave  of  absence, 
there  was  little  expectation  of  return.  Turning  to  free 
America,  Modjeska  and  her  husband,  with  other  will- 
ing Polish  exiles,  sought  a  refuge  in  the  far  West. 
She  would  abandon  the  unsteady  glitter  of  the  foot- 
lights for  the  constant  cheeriness  of  the  warm  sun  ; 
would  throw  aside  the  constraint  of  theatrical  artifice 
for  the  freedom  of  open  nature ;  would  forget  the 
thrilling  woes  of  stage  heroines  for  the  peaceful  hap- 
piness of  real  life.  On  a  California  ranch  she  and  her 
friends  would  dream  in  the  shady  nooks  of  the  pro.s- 
perity  coming  with  their  growing  grain  and  fattening 
cattle.  One  element  in  this  process  of  growing  and 
fattening  was,  however,  forgotten,  — that  of  work.  But 
before  long  the  poetry  of  this  easy,  careless  life  van- 
ished, and  the  career  of  the  bread-winner  opened  clearer 
before  them.  There  were  milking  and  feeding,  sewing 
and  scrubbing,  to  be  done,  even  in  this  supposed  para- 
dise ;  and  when  at  last  the  enthusiastic  woman  realized 
that  such  a  life  was  less  useful  and  less  profitable  for 
one  of  her  God-given  talents,  she  turned  again  to  her 
first  love,  the  stage,  and  made  that  memorable  and 
auspicious  d^but  in  San  I'rancisco. 

Since  then  her  name  has  been  identified  with  the 
best  work  of  the  American  stage.  In  1880  she  visited 
England,  and  there,  too,  obtained  favor,  although,  as 
Madame  Modjeska  has  herself  humorously  narrated, 
her  name  was  so  little  known  as  to  lead  many  people  to 
regard  the  single  word  on  the  posters,  "Modjeska,"  as 
the  title  of  a  new  tooth-wash  or  cosmetic  thus  broadly 
advertised ! 

The  list  of  her  roles,  aside  from  Shakespeare,  would 


MME.  MODJESKA.  79 

include  Julie  de  Mortimer  in  "  Richelieu,"  Mary  Stuart, 
Camille,  Adrienne,  Frou-Frou,  Donna  Diana,  Odette, 
Andrea  in  "Prince  Zillah,"  Nora  in  "A  Doll's  House," 
Louise  Greville  in  "The Tragic  Mask,"  Nadjesda,  Marie 
dc  Verneuil  in  "  Les  Chouans,"  Countess  von  Lexon  in 
"Daniela,"  and  the  title  role  in  "Magda."  The  latter 
five  she  created  upon  the  American  stage.  The  re- 
fined temperament  needful  for  adequate  representatfon 
of  poetic  characters  is  hers  by  birth.  Tragic  force, 
and  to  a  less  extent  nervous  emotionalism,  are  within 
her  essaying  scope  ;  but  the  memory  of  play -goers  holds 
more  willingly  the  attractive  picture  of  her  vivacious, 
intellectual  comedy,  and  her  sensitiv^e,  appealing  pathos. 
Few  actors  have  possessed  higher  ideals  than  Ma- 
dame Modjeska,  and  the  personal  as  well  as  profes- 
sional influence  she  has  brought  to  bear  upon  the  stage 
has  ever  been  to  its  advantage.  With  a  play  even 
of  the  order  of  "  Camille,"  Modjeska  has  endeavored, 
by  her  gentle,  softening  touch,  to  bring  out  a  lesson 
of  redeeming  love  in  place  of  an  ignoble  expression 
of  a  reformed  passion.  Naturally  this  transposition  of 
theatrical  effect  has  been  criticised  as  false  sentimen- 
tality ;  and  Camille,  untler  her  interpretation,  has  been 
declared  an  idealization  of  vice,  and  therefore  morbid 
—  perhaps  even  immoral — tiirough  its  tempting  char- 
acter. Hut  Modjeska,  on  her  side,  has  held  that  the 
central  idea  of  Camille  is  not  tlie  vulgar  tale  of  a 
cocotie  with  a  passing  fancy  for  a  handsome  young 
fellow,  but  a  touching  exi)ression  of  true  reformation 
through  love.  This,  she  maintains,  is  the  keynote  of 
the  character;  and,  basing  her  conception  on  this  mo- 
tive, she  sought  to  make  of  the  jilav  an  illustration 
of  the  text,  "Her  sins  which   are  many  are  forgiven, 


8o  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

for  she  loved  much,"  and  an  actual   stage  sermon  in 
its  ]K)rtrayal  of  self-sacrifice. 

]^ut  not  with  this  sentimental  play  will  Modjeska's 
future  fame  rest.  The  chief  glories  of  her  record  are 
her  careful,  enterprising  attempt  to  hold  on  the  stage 
the  best  and  rarest  works  of  Shakespeare.  It  is  true, 
she  has  made  no  one  character  essentially  her  own  ; 
no  strong  and  unique  personality  has  been  brought  to 
bear  upon  a  Portia  or  a  Lady  Macbeth  to  make  the 
single  impersonation  outshine  all  the  interpretations  of 
the  same  character  by  other  players,  even  of  the  same 
generation  ;  but  all  parts  that  Modjeska  has  essayed 
have  been  given  with  a  womanly  earnestness,  an  artis- 
tic sincerity,  and  an  rcsthetic  beauty,  that  have  made 
them  warm,  breathing  characters  of  genuine  interest 
and  ennobling  effect.  Madame  Modjeska's  province  is 
to  charm  rather  than  to  inspire,  to  delight  rather  than 
to  arouse  enthusiasm  ;  and  her  Viola,  her  Juliet,  her 
Imogen,  —  all  her  amiable  characters,  —  will  remain  as 
cameos  of  art  in  the  mind,  with  no  loud  coloring,  no 
disturbing  effects.  Could  the  endowed  theatre,  which 
she  has  so  long  championed,  be  established,  its  influ- 
ence upon  the  future  of  the  American  stage  would 
become  great  —  if  at  its  head  was  an  artiste  of  the 
character  and  skill  of  Madame  Modjeska. 


DION  BOUCICAULT. 


DION    BOUCICAULT. 

By  Vance  Thomi-son. 


The  drama  of  thirty  years  ago  seems  more  remote 
and  more  unreal  than  that  of  Shakespeare's  day. 
Very  little  of  it  holds  the  stage.  Indeed,  it  may  be 
said  that,  bar  a  few  sporadic  revivals,  the  plays  of 
Robertson,  Taylor,  and  Boucicault  are  permanently  out 
of  the  bill.  The  reason  is  not  far  to  seek.  They 
are  out  of  touch  with  the  times  ;  they  are  hopelessly 
archaic.  And  yet  in  his  own  day  Boucicault  was  con- 
sidered the  apostle  of  realism  on  the  stago  ! 

To  my  mind  the  chief  defect  of  tiie  Boucicault 
drama  lies  here  :  there  is  no  characterization  and  only 
the  most  elementary  psychology.  If  there  is  in  the 
long  series  of  Boucicault  i)lays  one  character  which  is 
at  once  reasonable  and  possible,  I  have  yet  to  find  it. 
Sometimes  the  characters  are  unnatural  because  they 
are  the  outcome  of  a  false  morality,  sometimes  because 
they  proceed  from  a  false  art.  In  the  Irish  ])lays  they 
are  impossible  developments  of  dramatic  motives.  But 
whatever  the  reason  is,  and  it  matters  little,  the  truth 
remains  that  Boucicault  never  created  a  reasonable  hu- 
man figure.  In  spite  of  this,  -or  by  reason  of  tiiis, — 
he  was  the  most  popular  ])laywright  of  liis  day.  He 
raised  playwrighting  to  the  dignity  of  a  sport. 

Si 


82  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF    TO-DAV. 

It  should  be  assumed  —  it  should  be  remembered 
rather — that  there  are  two  kinds  of  art,  which  will 
no  more  mix  than  oil  and  water.  It  used  to  be  the 
fashion  to  speak  of  high  art  and  low  art.  The  terms 
are  not  amiss.  Now,  the  great  masterpieces  of  high  art 
have  never  been  popular.  A  Madonna  by  Botticelli, 
a  portrait  by  Franz  Hals,  has  never  interested  the 
people.  It  does  not  concern  itself  with  the  mortuary 
sculpture  of  Michelangelo  or  the  great  works  of  liter- 
ature. And  of  the  drama  this  is  equally  true.  The 
great  play  is  not  popular ;  it  never  has  been  popular. 
One  has  it  on  excellent  authority  that  what  pleased  the 
audiences  of  the  Globe  Theatre  was  the  grossness,  and 
not  the  poetry,  in  Shakespeare's  plays  ;  the  melodrama, 
and  not  the  psychology.  And  neither  Shakespeare, 
nor  any  other  writer  of  the  first  class,  ever  created  a 
popular  type.  The  tenth-rate  men,  the  devisers  of  "  low 
art,"  to  use  the  old  terminology,  have  created  all  the 
popular  types  in  the  drama,  in  fiction,  in  "  illustration," 
in  balladry,  and  in  music. 

Who  will  sing  a  paean  for  the  tenth-rate  men  .-' 
They  deserve  statues  and  biographies.  They  have 
given  the  world  almost  everything  it  really  loves. 

Boucicault  created  the  popular  type  of  the  stage 
Irishman.  Conn  the  Shaughraun  is  a  creation  ;  Myles- 
na-Coppaleen  is  a  creation.  Perhaps  on  the  day  of 
Final  Summing-Up,  this  may  be  accounted  to  him  for 
a  sort  of  righteousness.  These  ranting,  vagrom  Irish- 
men of  his  have  made  for  the  gayety  of  nations  —  and 
gayety  is  a  rare  and  precious  quality. 

Of  all  the  spurious  types  which  have  got  into  fiction, 
none  is  quite  so  unreal  as  that  of  the  merry,  honest, 
humorous,  and  lovable  Irish  peasant.     Although  Lever 


DION    BOUCICAULT.  83 

and  Lover  antedated  him,  it  was  unquestionably  Bouci- 
cault  who  gave  vitality  to  these  comic-opera  peasants. 
The  Irish  themselves,  who  are  credulous,  have  come  to 
believe  in  the  reality  of  these  types  ;  and  as  you  journey 
through  Ireland  you  will  meet  at  any  cross-roads  pinch- 
beck imitations  of  Conn  the  Shaughraun,  or  Bourke's 
O'Shanahan  Dhu.     "  Aisy  in  love  and  divarshun  ?  " 

These  poor  wretches,  wheedling  for  pennies,  expert 
in  mendacity  and  mendicity.  No,  the  peasant's  life  is 
hard  the  world  over  ;  in  no  land  is  it  harder  than  in 
Ireland.  Now,  poverty  does  not  breed  virtue.  It  is 
the  begetter  of  lies  and  cowardice,  of  shuffling  and 
truckling  and  blarneying,  of  bullying  and  crime.  And 
the  Irish  peasant  has  all  the  vices  of  his  conditio". 
For  this  reality,  at  once  sad  and  dingy,  Boucicaull  sub- 
stituted the  shining  and  salutary  sham  of  the  dare-devil, 
sentimental  and  witty  Conn.  This,  surelv,  should  be 
accounted  to  him  for  a  sort  of  righteousness.  He  has 
not  only  created  a  jjopular  type  ;  he  has  wrought  a 
miracle,  and  created  a  tolerable   Irish  peasant. 

And  how  long  will  this  type  persist  ?  I  lio  not  see 
why  one  should  set  a  limit.  There  is  vitality  still  in 
the  Dibdin  sailor-lad,  with  his  "heave-ho!  me  hearty;" 
and  Boucicault's  Irishman  bids  fair  to  live  as  long. 

But  were  I  asked  which  of  lioucicault's  plays  will 
live  into  the  ne.xt  century,  I  should  bite  my  thumb  in 
perplexity.  The  ultimate  test  of  a  drama  is  the  te.xt. 
When  all  is  swept  away,  —  the  setluctions  of  the  players 
and  the  complicity  of  contemjjoraries,  —  there  remains 
only  the  text,  plain  and  inflexible,  making  for  immortal- 
ity or  derision.  It  is  impossil>le  not  to  recogni/e  the 
fact  that  lioucicaidt's  j)lays  differ  from  the  ilrainatic 
forms   which   endure   for  generations,    independent   of 


84  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

the  modes  of  the  hour  and  the  assistance  of  the  actors. 
A  fair  measure  of  success  attended  Mr.  Aubrey  Bouci- 
cault's  recent  revival  of  the  "Colleen  Bawn  ;"  but  here, 
again,  the  play  was  not  the  thing.  One's  interest  was  in 
the  young  actor,  an  accomplice  in  his  father's  success. 

I  think  one  may  safely  say  that  the  play -goers  do  not 
care  tuppence  for  the  Boucicault  drama.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  players  are  loath  to  let  it  die.  In  other 
words,  they  are  actor's  plays,  —  media  for  the  exercise 
of  virtnositc,  opportunities  for  technical  display.  You 
remember  Lady  Gay  Spanker's  famous  "  steeple-chase 
speech  "  in  "  London  Assurance  ; "  this  is  the  sort  of 
thing  the  actress  will  not  willingly  let  die. 

"  London  Assurance  "  was  Boucicault's  first  play  ;  and 
in  accounting  for  its  longevity,  one  finds,  also,  an  expla- 
nation of  the  fact  that  while  Robertson,  Reade,  and 
Taylor  are  permanently  out  of  the  bill,  Boucicault  is 
still  played.  I  remember  Miss  Rose  Coghlan's  revi- 
val of  "  London  Assurance  "  at  the  Star  Theatre,  New 
York,  in  1894.  Upon  my  word,  though  I  went  to  the 
theatre  in  the  dress  usually  worn  by  men  who  go  abroad 
in  the  evening,  I  felt  I  should  have  donned  a  high- 
waisted  blue  coat,  with  brass  buttons,  strapped  trousers, 
a  canary  waistcoat,  and  a  threefold  stock.  It  was  pro- 
duced in  1841  ;  and  Boucicault,  then  nineteen  years  of 
age,  witnessed  the  triumph  of  his  play  from  a  stage- 
box  of  the  Covent  Garden  Theatre.  It  was  immensely 
popular  in  those  days  of  immense  petticoats  and  im- 
mense stocks.  And  this  popularity  has  persisted  feebly, 
but  unbrokenly,  for  half  a  century.  I  do  not  think 
audiences  clamor  for  it.  It  is  not  like  that  much 
advertised  nostrum  for  which  babies  cry.  Its  vitality, 
you  and  I   will  agree,  is  due  to  the  players    and    the 


DION    HOUCICAUI.T.  85 

players  alone  ;  to  Mr.  Charles  Wyndham,  who  is  an 
ideal  Cool,  and  Miss  Coghlan,  the  best  Lady  Sj^anker 
of  this  generation.  "  London  Assurance"  is  like  those 
twiddling,  flamboyant  concertos  of  Bruch,  which  violin- 
ists preserve  because  they  afford  chances  for  displaying 
virtuosity.  You  have  heard  that  strenuous  Belgian, 
Ysaye,  play  the  second  Bruch  concerto  .-•  Then  you 
know  just  what  I  mean.  You  and  I,  mooning  in  our 
orchestra  chairs,  cared  not  tuppence  for  the  subject 
matter  of  that  blessed  piece.  lUit  Ysayc's  technical 
execution,  his  mastership,  the  tremendously  effective 
way  in  which  he  got  over  those  harmonic  iiurdles  — 
ah!  this  filled  us  with  serene,  aesthetic  satisfaction. 
And  "  London  Assurance  "  }  It  is  the  same  thing. 
One's  interest  is  in  such  technical  matters  as  the 
"business"  between  Cool  and  Meddle;  or  Grace  Hark- 
away's  ability  to  carry  her  languishing  —  lier  L\(lia 
Languishing  —  rhapsodies.  For  instance,  ynu  watch 
for  such  delicious  absurdities  as  this  :  — 

"  I  love  to  watcii  tlie  first  tear  tliat  glistens  in  the  openiiij;  eye 
of  morniiij;,  the  .silent  son<^  tliat  flowers  hreatlie.  the  tliriilin<(  clioir 
of  the  woodland  minstrel.s,  to  which  the  nuxlest  brook  trickles 
applause:  these,  sweilin<j  out  the  sweetest  chord  of  sweet  creation's 
matins,  .seem  to  jxHir  some  soft  and  merry  tale  into  the  daylights 
ear,  a.s  if  the  wakinj^  world  had  dreamed  a  happy  thing,  and  now- 
smiled  o'er  the  tellinj^  of  it.' 

These  desperately  foolish  ])assages  tempt  the  actress 
to-day  as  they  tempted  her  long  ago.  Tlie  l^iiicieaiilt 
comedy  persists  simply  because  it  (hools  with  riietoric 
which  pleases  the  players. 

But  the  old  order  changeth.  Th  •  imunmers  who 
were  adept  in  artificial  comedy  are  dyitig  out.  The 
new  histrionic  school  has  other  aims  and  other  ideals. 


86  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACFORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

It  needs  no  hardy  prophet  to  foretell  the  time  when 
Boucicault's  plays  shall  have  ceased  to  please  even  the 
players.  Then  they  will  be  merely  documents,  to 
which  the  curious  student  of  the  drama  will  turn  in- 
differently. Mad  it  not  been  for  the  complicity  of  the 
players  they  would  have  been  discarded  long  ago. 

The  public  has  always  been  easily  cozened  in  plays. 
It  has  rarely  praised  the  praiseworthy,  if  one  is  to 
believe  the  men  of  Serious  Intellect.  In  praising  Bou- 
cicault,  however,  I  think  it  did  well.  He  gave  his  age 
what  it  wanted,  and  played  no  inconsiderable  part  in 
the  development  of  the  modern  drama.  He  was  a 
dramaturgical  matador.  He  pricked  many  of  the  elab- 
orate stage  conventions  of  his  time.  In  so  far  as  it 
lay  in  a  tenth-rate  man,  he  was  original.  He  was  quite 
innocent  of  culture  ;  but  he  had  imagination,  and  he 
knew  the  stage.  He  was  ingenious,  inventive,  and 
industrious — amazingly,  monstrously  industrious.  He 
wrote  or  adapted  an  almost  incredible  number  of 
plays.  His  Irish  melodramas  have  overshadowed  his 
five-act  comedies  and  tragic  plays,  and  yet  these  too 
had  their  time  of  popularity.  Who  remembers  them 
now  ?  "  Old  Heads  and  Young  Hearts,"  "The  School 
for  Scheming,"  "The  Irish  Heiress,"  "Love  in  a 
Maze,"  "The  Willow  Copse,"  "The  Corsican  Brothers," 
"Faust  and  Marguerite,"  "Used  Up,"  "The  Octo- 
roon," "The  Streets  of  London,"  "  After  Dark,"  "The 
Long  Strike,"  "Flying  Scud,"  "Night  and  Morning," 
—  they  are  dead  as  Garrick's  prologues  or  Gibber's 
plays.  They  served  their  purpose  ;  they  amused  the 
spectators,  and  that,  as  Aristotle  insisted,  is  the  true 
aim  of  the  drama.  The  Boucicault  drama  is  dead ;  any 
discussion  of  it  is  in  the  nature  of  an  autopsy. 


DION    BOUCICAULT.  87 

Its  most  notable  quality  was  its  gayety  —  its  fine 
animal  spirits.  It  was  merry  and  clean.  To  us  the 
gayety  of  "  Arrah-Na-Pogue  "  seems  rather  threadbare  ; 
but  even  the  shabbiest  and  most  decrepit  spirit  of  mirth 
should  be  reverently  treated  in  these  days.  Gayety  is 
infinitely  more  precious  than  all  the  "  profundity  "  and 
"bitterness"  and  "modernity  "  of  ginger-bread  philoso- 
phers like  Pinero  and  Grundy  and  Jones,  and  infinitely 
more  rare.  It  is  only  decent  that  we  should  thank 
Boucicault  for  the  laughter  which  arrided  our  fathers, 
even  though  laughter  be  not  hereditarv. 

There  are  few  facts  of  interest  in  Boucicault's  biogra- 
phy. He  was  born  in  Dublin  in  1822,  —  Christmas 
day,  I  believe, — the  youngest  son  of  Samuel  Bouci- 
cault, a  merchant.  He  was  a  nephew  of  George  Dar- 
ley,  the  dramatist,  and  was  named  after  Dr.  Dionysius 
Lardner,  the  philologist  and  pamphleteer.  A  success- 
ful playwright  at  nineteen,  he  did  not  know  failure 
until  old  age  came  uj^on  him.  In  1853  he  married 
Agnes  Robertson,  and  came  to  the  United  States. 
Here  he  turned  actor,  playing  Irish  characters  with 
great  success.  He  went  back  to  London  in  i860.  In 
his  most  prosperous  period  —  the  seventies  —  he  was 
manager  and  lessee  of  Covcnt  Garden  Theatre.  Affairs 
did  not  go  well  with  him  in  later  years.  He  descended 
to  what  Kpictetus  called  the  "  shameful  necessity  of 
teaching  the  young."     He  di.-d  in  New  York  in  1890. 

There  have  been  Irish  dramatists  by  the  score,  — 
O'Keefe,  O'Hara,  Kelly,  O'Brien,  Kenney.  Only  two 
attained  eminence.  One  was  Richard  Ikinslev  Shcri, 
dan.  wlio  never  wrote  an  Irish  play.  The  other  was 
Dionysius  Lardner  Boucicault. 


CLARA    MORRIS. 

By  Wii.lari)  IIoi.comb. 


Shall  a  player  merely  act,  or  really  feel  his  part  ? 
which  is  truer  to  art  and  nature?  This  is  a  question 
which  has  been  disputed  by  critics  as  well  as  actors 
from  the  time  Diderot  took  David  Garrick  to  task  for 
his  "Treatise  on  the  Art  of  Playing,"  published  in 
1754,  replying  in  the  famous  "  Paradox  of  Acting," 
down  to  the  recent  discussion  between  Henry  Irving 
and  Coquelin  ainc,  representing  the  English  and  French 
schools  respectively  ;  and  still  it  is  as  far  from  being 
settled  as  when  first  begun.  All  authorities  recognize 
that,  as  William  of  Avon  tersely  put  it :  — 

"  The  aim  of  acting  is  and  ever  shall  be, 
To  hold,  as  't  were,  the  mirror  up  to  Nature;" 

but  the  method  thereof  must  be  determined  by  each 
individual  player.  Shall  he  be  the  thing  he  seems  for 
the  time  being,  or  merely  simulate  so  closely  that  the 
beholder  believes  him  to  be  it .'' 

The  living  flame,  which  feeds  on  fuel  and  air,  and 
the  burning-glass,  which  gathers  and  concentrates  the 
sun's  rays,  achieve  the  same  effect.  But  the  glass  is 
unconsumed,  scarcely  more  than  warmed,  by  the  in- 
tense heat  it   transfers,   whereas   the   living   fire    con- 

88 


CLARA  MORRIS. 
(From  «n  etrly  pnotograph.) 


CI.AKA    MORRIS.  89 

sumcs  all  it  touches,  and,  when  there  is  nothing  left 
to  feed  upon,  dies  out. 

Such  must  be  the  fate  of  the  player  who  feels  too  in- 
tensely the  flame  of  passion  ;  self-consumed,  his  power 
must  die.  But  the  artist  who,  like  the  burning-glass, 
gathers  from  nature's  inexhaustible  source  the  vital 
rays,  reflecting  them  with  conscious  art,  and  transmit- 
ting them  to  his  audience,  remains  clear  and  peren- 
nially powerful  to  the  end.  Such  j^layers  never  lag 
superfluous. 

Clara  Morris  is  the  living  example  of  one  side  of 
Diderot's  arfrument ;  she  illustrates  extreme  sensibilitv. 
l^ernhardt  is  her  opposite,  —  cold,  calculating,  self-con- 
scious art.  But  Bernhardt  stills  plays  Camille  with 
all  her  former  finesse,  yea,  even  with  added  art,  while 
Clara  Morris  only  occasionally  realizes  her  former 
greatness.  Sometimes,  as  she  breathes  upon  the  ashes 
of  the  past,  the  old  flame  blazes  up  again  in  all  its 
fierce,  fascinating  intensity,  and  for  a  brief  scene  she  is 
Camille  ;  then  it  dies  out,  and  she  is  only  a  mediocre 
actress  again.  It  is  the  difference  between  natural 
talent  unrestrained,  and  technique  developed  to  abso- 
lute art. 

It  is  impossible  to  consider  Clara  Morris  in  a  coldly 
critical  light,  for  her  art  will  not  withstand  it.  Her 
audience  must  be  carried  with  her  on  the  wave  of  emo- 
tion, or  left  stranded  and  disgusted  on  the  beach.  The 
man  who  merely  looks  on  ami  listens  is  offended  by 
her  unconventionality,  her  unrestrained,  almost  hysteri- 
cal emotion.  She  weeps  realistic  tears,  and  inciden- 
tally applies  her  pocket-handkerchief  to  other  very 
proper  but  unpoetic  uses  incident  to  undue  excitation 
of  the  lachrymal  glands. 


90  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

Her  peculiar  nasal  intonation  strikes  jarringly  on 
the  unsympathetic  ear,  and  her  meagre  gesticulation 
soon  becomes  stereotyped  and  tiresome.  Clara  Mor- 
ris, through  the  cold,  mechanical  medium  of  the  pho- 
nograph and  kinetoscope,  would  be  grotesque,  almost 
ludicrous.  In  short,  the  actress  cannot  be  differen- 
tiated from  the  character  she  is  assuming  for  the  time 
being.  She  is  either  Camille  with  her  woes,  Cora  with 
her  wrongs,  Odette  with  her  repentance,  —  or  a  mere 
acting  automaton. 

Yet  this  is  the  woman  who,  with  her  realistic  inter- 
pretation of  Camille,  has  moved  to  tears  more  Camilles 
of  real  life  than  ever  thronged  to  the  matinees  of  any 
other  American  actress.  It  may  not  have  been  art  ; 
but  it  contained  that  touch  of  truth  which  appealed 
to  their  sin-sodden  souls,  and  brought  the  salt  tears 
tumbling  down  their  painted  cheeks.  Maudlin  tears 
these  may  have  been,  and  half  an  hour  later  these 
same  Camilles  probably  laughed  at  themselves  in  their 
mirrors,  as  they  applied  more  powder  to  efface  the 
stains  ;  but  they  were  the  tribute  of  sincerity,  —  the 
spontaneous  echo  of  powerful  emotion. 

Clara  Morris's  career  is  in  itself  a  drama.  Born 
Morrison,  a  Canadian  by  nativity,  but  with  the  warm 
Celtic  blood  coursing  through  her  fragile  frame,  she 
seemed  fitted  for  almost  any  other  walk  in  life  than  the 
stage.  She  might  have  been  a  religieuse,  supplement- 
ing her  slender  strength  with  the  fierce  ardor  of  devo- 
tion and  inspired  imagination,  until  by  her  services  for 
man  and  the  Master  she  had  won  a  saint's  halo.  She 
might  have  been  merely  a  plain  housewife,  misunder- 
stood and  unappreciated  by  her  associates,  smothering 
her  aspirations  within  her  own  heart,  and  slowly  con- 


CLARA    MORRIS. 


91 


sumed  by  their  inward  fire,  until  death  brought  long- 
desired  relief. 

She  had  imagination  enough  for  a  writer ;  but  it  was 
interpretative  rather  than  creative,  and  she  scorned 
that  discipline  and  restraint  prerequisite  to  the  best 
expression  of  thought.  Instead,  she  chose  the  stage, 
and  with  perseverance  that  bespoke  the  determined 
spirit  within  her  weakly  little  body,  fought  it  through 
for  long,  weary  years  of  drudgery,  physical  suffering, 
and  lack  of  recognition.  But  she  felt  within  her  that 
spark  of  genius  which,  when  eventually  given  vent, 
blazed  forth  into  a  flame  that  for  more  than  a  decade 
made  her  America's  most  famous  emotional  actress. 

When  only  seventeen  she  joined  John  Ellsler's  stock 
company  in  Cleveland,  Ohio,  playing  maid-servant  and 
similar  minor  parts  which  fall  to  the  lot  of  young  ac- 
tresses. She  was  painstaking,  studious,  and  reliable ; 
but  no  one  ever  recognized  in  her  the  possibilities  of 
more  than  an  ordinary  utility  player.  It  happened 
that  in  1870  Augustin  Daly,  always  on  the  outlook 
for  fresh  talent,  required  some  young  women  at  his 
Fifth  Avenue  Theatre,  and  wrote  Mr.  Ellsler.  Mr. 
Daly  did  not  require  much,  only  conscientious  and 
fairly  talented  girls,  who  knew  enough  to  make  an 
entrance  and  exit, —  probably  preferring  to  train  them 
after  his  own  methods.  Clara  Morris  being  the  only 
one  available  in  his  company,  Mr.  ICllsler  sent  her  to 
New  York. 

At  this  time  Clara  Morris  was  described  as  a  slim, 
pale,  quiet  little  creature ;  and,  needless  to  say,  she 
was  almo.st  lost  in  the  Fifth  Avenue  Company,  then 
full  of  talent  since  celebrated.  Mr.  Daly  had  in  re- 
hearsal an   adaptation  of    Wilkie  Colliuss    "  Man    and 


92  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF    TO-DAV. 

Wife,"  in  which  Miss  Morris  was  given  a  small  part, 
and  Agnes  Ethel,  the  leading  lady,  was  cast  for  Anne 
Sylvester,  an  emotional  part  that  called  for  the  highest 
powers.  Just  then  Miss  Ethel  sprained  her  ankle,  with 
prospects  of  being  laid  up  for  a  month.  Mr.  Daly  was 
deeply  troubled  ;  for  his  preparations  had  been  extensive, 
and  he  disliked  to  disappoint  the  public. 

In  his  company  was  Fanny  Davenport,  but  she 
failed  to  show  the  proper  spirit  in  the  part.  Kate 
Claxton  and  Linda  Dietz  were  tried,  but  neither  suited 
Mr.  Daly.  Then  by  inspiration,  or  m  despair,  he  gave 
the  part,  with  a  few  brief  instructions,  to  little  Morris, 
greatly  to  her  delight,  but  to  the  undisguised  disgust 
of  the  older  members  of  the  company. 

But  though  others  were  openly  surprised  and  doubt- 
ful, she  felt  that  her  opportunity  had  come.  Hurrying 
home  to  her  mother  with  her  precious  manuscript,  she 
sat  up  all  night  studying.  Next  morning  at  rehearsal 
she  was  letter  perfect,  and  Mr.  Daly  was  much  pleased 
at  her  industry  and  aptness.  But  the  "little  pale  girl," 
as  he  called  her,  refused  to  act  at  rehearsals.  With  the 
exception  of  an  occasional  emphatic  speech,  he  could 
get  nothing  out  of  her  to  indicate  that  she  would  do 
more  than  recite  the  part  poll-parrot  wise.  Still  the 
spirit  of  prophecy  or  pertinacity  determined  him  to  try 
her. 

The  night  of  the  opening  came,  and  the  house  was 
sold  out.  All  the  other  players  were  ready,  but  it  was 
whispered  that  little  Morris  was  ill.  John  Norton,  the 
actor  and  manager,  an  old  friend  of  the  family,  who  had 
known  her  in  Cleveland,  found  her  in  bed,  feverish  with 
excitement,  and  suffering  from  the  spinal  affection  which 
came  near  to  endins:  her  life  later  on.     He  cheered  and 


CI^RA    MORRIS.  93 

encouraged  her  as  best  he  could,  and  volunteered  to 
accompany  her  to  the  theatre.  Miss  Morris  insisted 
on  walking,  to  work  off  her  nervousness  ;  but  every 
now  and  then  she  was  obliged  to  sit  down  on  some 
convenient  doorstep  to  rest  and  cry  a  bit. 

Mr.  Daly  apologized  before  the  curtain  for  Miss 
P^thel's  non-appearance,  and  stated  that  Miss  Morris 
would  play  the  part,  plainly  indicating  his  doubt  as  to 
the  outcome.  When  the  curtain  rose  all  the  old  Daly 
favorites,  James  Lewis,  D.  H.  Harkins,  Mrs.  Gilbert, 
Kate  Claxton,  Linda  Dietz,  etc.,  were  warmly  wel- 
comed ;  but  nobody  in  the  audience  seemed  to  know 
the  pale  little  creature  who  remained  in  the  background 
during  most  of  the  first  act,  until  at  the  clima.x  she 
startled  everybody  with  a  Vesuvian  outburst  of  passion. 

They  were  watching  for  her  when  the  curtain  rose 
again  ;  and  during  the  second  act  she  developed  such 
intensity  of  power,  sincerity  of  purpose,  —  fury  ex- 
pressed in  choking  passion,  and  tenderness  interpreted 
through  streaming  tears,  —  that  half  the  audience  wept 
with  her.  After  that  all  were  under  the  spell  of  the 
little  pale  woman,  and  Clara  Morris  was  famous. 

Of  her  later  triumphs  as  Cora,  Miss  Multon,  Odette, 
and  Camille,  little  need  be  said,  as  they  still  live  in  the 
public  memory.  For  fully  a  decade  Miss  Morris  has 
been  the  Camille  of  the  American  stage  ;  and  although 
rivals  of  newer  schools  are  crowding  her  from  the 
boards,  she  still  remains  the  representative  of  the 
realistic  Marirucrite  Gautier. 


MR.  AND   MRS.   W .   J.   FLORENCE 

By  Albert  Ellery  Berg, 


William  Jermyn  Florence  was  born  in  Albany, 
N.Y.,  on  July  26,  1831.  He  was  of  Irish  descent,  and 
his  real  name  was  not  Florence,  but  Conlin,  His 
father,  who  was  an  Irishman  of  the  old  school  of 
patriots,  died  when  William  was  fifteen  years  of  age; 
and  that  father's  death  required  the  boy  to  con- 
tribute to  the  support  of  the  family.  He  first  began 
to  make  a  living  by  working  at  a  very  small  salary  in 
a  newspaper  office  in  Albany.  Then  he  went  to  New 
York,  where  he  was  first  employed  as  assistant  book- 
keeper in  a  large  mercantile  establishment,  and  after- 
wards in  a  type  manufacturing  concern. 

His  inborn  dramatic  instinct  soon  led  him  to  join 
the  James  E.  Murdoch  Dramatic  Association,  which, 
although  then  in  its  infancy,  was  famous  locally,  and 
had  produced  many  good  actors.  In  Florence's  day  it 
had  about  two  hundred  members,  most  of  them  talented 
amateurs.  Florence  had,  as  a  boy,  acquired  some  note 
for  his  powers  of  mimicry.  In  the  shop  his  associates 
had  but  to  start  whistling  a  jig,  a  reel,  or  a  clog,  and 
the  first  foot  to  patter  in  response  was  young  Conlin's. 
He  could  reproduce  the  Irish  brogue,  the  negro  twang, 
and  the  Dutch  guttural,  with  equal  facility. 

94 


W    J.   FLORENCE. 


MR.  AND    MRS.   \V.  J.  FLORENCE.  95 

There  is  some  difference  of  opinion  as  to  the  date 
of  his  iirst  appearance  on  the  professional  stage.  As 
early  as  December,  1849,  he  made  wiiat  may  be  re- 
garded as  his  debut,  at  the  old  Bowery  Theatre,  in 
"  Evadne."  He  had  but  one  line  to  speak,  consisting 
of  two  words,  —  "Hold  off."  According  to  other  ac- 
counts, he  made  his  first  attempt  on  the  professional 
stage  at  tiie  Richmond  Hill  Theatre  of  Richmond, 
Va.,  on  Dec.  6,  1849,  as  Peter  in  "  Tiie  Stranger." 
The  following  year  he  played  the  part  of  Macduff  to 
Booth's  Macbeth,  at  Providence,  R.I.,  but  soon  took 
to  Irish  characters  at  Brougham's  Lyceum,  and  made 
a  great  hit  in  that  line  of  parts. 

He  had  previously  appeared,  on  May  13,  1850,  as 
Hallagon,  in  Brougham's  piece  called  "  Home,"  at 
Niblo's,  which  was  then  under  the  management  of 
William  Chippendale  and  John  Brougham.  Among  his 
professional  as.sociates  at  Niblo's  were  Mary  Taylor, 
Mrs.  Vernon,  John  Sefton,  Fanny  Wallack,  Charlotte 
Cushman,  and  William  Burton.  Brougham  afterwards 
took  a  new  theatre  at  Broadway  and  Broom  Street, 
which  he  called  Brougham's  Lyceum.  This  was 
opened  on  Dec.  23,  1850;  and  on  that  night  Florence 
appeared  in  the  farce  called  "The  Light  Guard  and 
Wf)man's  Rights." 

It  was  towards  the  end  of  this  season,  in  the  spring 
of  185 1,  that  Florence  made  his  first  great  hit.  The 
piece  was  called,  "  A  Row  at  the  Lyceum."  and  was 
one  of  Brougham's  jokes.  The  stage  was  shown  with- 
out any  scenery,  so  as  to  represent  a  rehearsal.  The 
actors  were  in  their  evorv-day  clothi'S,  and  they  were 
styled  on  the  programme  simply  by  their  own  names, 
Florence  playing  the  fire  laddie.     He  was  not  on  the 


96  FAMOUS   AMERICAN    ACfORS    OF    TO— DAY. 

Stage,  but  in  the  auditorium.  He  wore  a  white  spike 
hat.  In  the  middle  of  the  performance  he  began  to 
talk  to  the  actors  on  the  stage.  Great  commotion  en- 
sued in  the  theatre,  and  it  was  some  thiic  before  the 
joke  dawned  on  the  audience. 

The  year  following  Florence  joined  Marshall's  Com- 
pany at  the  old  Broadway  Theatre,  appearing  on  Aug. 
30,  1852,  as  Lord  Tinsel  in  "The  Hunchback."  Dur- 
ing this  engagement  he  supported  the  principal  stars 
of  that  day  in  tragedy,  comedy,  and  farce.  Among 
them  were  Edwin  Forrest,  Mrs.  Mowatt,  and  I\Ir.  and 
Mrs.  Barney  Williams. 

On  New  Year's  Day,  1853,  Florence  married  Mrs. 
Littell,  a  dausciisc  wliose  maiden  name  was  Malvina 
Pray,  and  who  was  a  sister  of  Mrs.  Barney  Williams. 
The  Pray  sisters  were  graceful  dancers,  and  were  much 
liked  in.  soubrette  parts.  Malvina  had  first  married 
Joseph  Littell,  an  old-time  actor.  Another  sister  of 
Malvina,  who  was  also  a  dancer,  married  Mr.  George 
Y.  Browne.  Barney  Williams  and  his  wife  were  at  that 
time  in  the  height  of  their  success,  as  Irish  boy  and 
Yankee  girl  delineators.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Florence,  be- 
lieving that  the  world  was  wide  enough  for  another 
team  of  that  kind,  decided  to  adopt  the  same  line,  an 
experiment  which  proved  eminently  successful. 

In  an  interview  in  1877,  Florence  told  how  he  came 
to  adopt  this  line  of  work.  After  telling  all  about 
"The  Row  at  the  Lyceum,"  he  says,  "It  was  during 
this  engagement  that  I  first  met  Mrs.  Florence.  She 
was  then  a  danscusc ;  for  it  was  customary  in  those 
days  to  make  use  of  songs  and  the  'light  fantastic' 
between  the  plays.  Her  name  was  Malvina;  and  she 
was  considered  the  best  of  American  dancers  and  sou- 


MR.  AND    MRS.  W.  J.   FLORENCE.  97 

brettes  of  the  period,  among  whom  may  be  enumerated 
Mary  Gannon,  Julia  Turnbull,  Mary  Ann  Lee,  Annie 
Walters  (afterwards  the  wife  of  George  Jordan),  and 
others.  Wallack  then  took  the  theatre.  My  wife 
remained;  but  I  went  to  play  on  Broadway,  near  the 
corner  of  Anthony  (now  Worth)  Street.  I  played  in 
almost  everything.  I  was  watching  almost  jealously 
the  progress  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barney  Williams,  and 
felt  the  ability  to  do  as  well.  After  consultation  with 
Mrs.  Florence,  we  determined  to  enter  the  same  field. 
We  started  at  the  National  Theatre  in  Chatham  Street. 
Mrs.  Florence  introduced  the  Yankee  girl  ;  and  it  was 
an  immense  hit,  especially  in  England,  where  we  played 
at  the  Drury  Lane  Theatre  in  1856  for  a  long  time." 

The  Chatham  Street  engagement  referred  to  by  Mr. 
Florence  was  where  he  and  his  wife  opened  their  star- 
ring tour  on  June  19,  1853.  It  was  then  known  as 
Purdy's  National  Theatre.  At  that  time  Mr.  Florence 
wrote  several  plays  upon  Irish  and  Yankee  subjects. 
He  also  composed  many  songs  of  a  popular  character, 
one  of  which,  called  "  Bobbing  Around,"  had  a  large 
sale.  These  songs  were  sung  by  his  wife,  to  the  great 
delight  of  the  audiences  of  that  day.  The  Irish  plays 
made  considerable  money  for  the  Florences.  It  was 
only  occasionally  that  they  resorted  to  burlesque  and 
melodrama.  One  of  the  most  popular  of  these  Irish 
dramas  was  "  The  Irish  I'iinigrant,"  in  which  the 
Florences  frequently  appeared  at  the  old  Winter  Gar- 
den. Florence  also  gave  a  very  good  character  sketch 
of  Handy  Andy,  and  appeared  in  a  long  line  of  Hiber- 
nian characters  that  had  been  in  the  n^f^irtoire  of  Ty- 
rone Power  and  old  John  Drew.  Among  the  best 
burlesques  of  Florence's  repertoire  were  "  Fra  Diavolo," 


98  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

"  Bcppo,"  "  Lalla  Rookh,"  "  The  Lady  of  Lyons,"  and 
"  The  Colleen  l^awn."  He  was  to  some  extent  the 
pioneer  in  this  class  of  burlesque  on  the  American 
stage. 

The  Florences  filled  engagements  at  the  outset  of 
their  starring  tour  in  all  the  principal  cities  of  the 
United*  States,  and  were  everywhere  well  received. 
Among  the  early  plays  written  by  Mr,  Florence  for 
these  appearances  were  "The  Irish  Princess,"  "O'Neil 
the  Great,"  "The  Sicilian  Bride,"  "Woman's  Wrong," 
"  Eva,"  and  "  The  Drunkard's  Doom." 

On  April  2,  1856,  the  Florences  sailed  for  England, 
and  appeared  in  London  at  the  Drury  Lane  Theatre 
for  fifty  nights  to  crowded  houses.  The  performance 
of  the  Yankee  girl  by  Mrs.  Florence  roused  great  en- 
thusiasm ;  for  it  was  a  new  type  to  English  audiences, 
and  Mrs.  Florence  was  one  of  the  first  American 
comediennes  to  appear  on  the  English  stage.  After 
the  London  engagement  was  finished,  the  Florences 
appeared  at  Manchester,  Edinburgh,  Glasgow,  Belfast, 
Dublin,  and  other  cities,  where  they  became  universal 
favorites.  Their  songs  were  sung  and  whistled  all 
over  the  United  Kingdom  at  that  time. 

The  foreign  tour  proved,  according  to  Mr.  Florence's 
own  statement,  a  great  benefit  to  them  on  their  return 
to  the  United  States,  where  they  opened  their  second 
starring  tour  with  pronounced  artistic  and  pecuniary 
success.  Their  first  appearance  on  their  return  to 
this  country  was  at  Burton's  new  theatre,  where  they 
played  three  weeks  to  large  audiences  in  "The  Irish 
Emigrant,"  "  The  Yankee  Housekeeper,"  and  "  The 
Lesson  for  Husbands." 

On  July  5,  1858,  the  Florences  opened  at  Wallack's 


MR.  AND    MRS.  W.  J.  FLORENCE.  99 

old  theatre  for  the  summer  season,  during  which  they 
produced  a  number  of  burlesques.  On  June  13,  1859, 
they  began  a  second  season  at  the  same  house  ;  and 
on  the  1 8th  of  that  month  they  produced  the  bur- 
lesque of  "  Lalla  Rookh,"  which  ran  successfully  to  the 
end  of  their  term,  Aug.  20.  They  returned  to  this 
theatre  on  May  25,  i86o,  for  a  run  of  "  Lalla  Rookh." 
Meanwhile  Mr.  Florence  had  purchased  the  costumes 
which  the  late  W.  E.  Burton  had  worn  as  Timothy 
Toodle  and  Captain  Cuttle.  The  season  closed  on 
Aug.  25.  From  June  10,  1862,  until  Sept.  6  of  the 
same  year,  the  Florences  occupied  Wallack's  new 
theatre,  corner  of  Thirteenth  Street  and  l^roadway, 
later  known  as  the  Star.  Their  most  noticeable  pro- 
ductions there  were  a  farce  called  "  Orange  Blossoms," 
acted  for  the  first  time  July  2,  and  a  dramatization  by 
John  Brougham  of  "  Dombey  and  Son  "  (with  Florence 
as  Captain  Cuttle,  and  Mrs.  P'lorence  as  Susan  Nipper), 
which  they  brought  out  on  July  7.  In  the  part  of  Cap- 
tain Cuttle,  Florence  made  one  of  his  most  brilliant 
hits,  and  many  of  the  critics  considered  it  the  best  of 
all  his  creations.  Mr.  Florence  himself  declared  that 
Captain  Cuttle  and  Bob  Brierly  were  his  favorite  char- 
acters. His  acting  of  Captain  Cuttle  is  said  to  have 
been  as  good  as  that  of  his  predecessor,  William  liur- 
ton,  who  was  very  famous  in   the  part   in  his  day. 

The  burlesque,  Kily  O'Connor,  by  the  late  H.  J. 
Byron,  was  produced  by  the  Florences  for  the  first  time 
in  this  country,  at  Wallack's,  on  Aug.  6.  It  was  tlur- 
ing  the  summer  of  1862  that  the  Florences  paid  their 
second  visit  to  England,  where  they  performed  for 
about  three  month.s.  .A.ftcr  their  return,  they  began 
an    engagement    at    the   Winter    Garden    Theatre,   on 


lOO        FAMOUS   AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

Nov.  2,  appearing  in  "Handy  Andy,"  "Mischievous 
Annie,"  and  "  The  Returned  Volunteer."  On  Nov.  9 
they  produced  "Kathleen  Mavourneen,"  which  ran  for 
two  weeks.  During  his  second  visit  to  England,  Mr. 
Florence  had  seen  Henry  Neville's  striking  personation 
of  Bob  Brierly  in  "  The  Ticket-of-Leave  Man,"  and, 
deeming  the  character  suitable  for  himself,  purchased 
a  few  printed  copies,  as  the  piece  was  published.  He 
accordingly  brought  out  the  play  for  the  first  time  in 
America,  on  Nov.  30,  1863.  It  ran  until  March  26, 
1864,  —  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  performances  in 
all.  He  made  a  great  hit  as  Bob  Brierlv,  which  was 
one  of  his  best  characters,  and  which  he  is  said  to 
have  acted  during  his  career  fifteen  hundred  times.  It 
was  this  character  that  re-established  his  reputation  as 
an  actor  of  serious  parts.  He  gave  a  capital  delinea- 
tion of  the  trials  of  the  simple  Yorkshire  lad,  who  fell 
into  bad  company  and  suffered  for  it.  Mrs.  Florence 
personated  with  humorous  effect  the  good-hearted  dan- 
sense,  Emily  Evremonde. 

During  his  third  visit  to  England,  Florence  secured 
a  copy  of  T.  W.  Robertson's  "  Caste,"  which  he  after- 
wards professed  to  have  written  down  from  memory. 
The  play  was  produced  at  Wallack's  in  August,  1867, 
but  had  to  be  withdrawn  on  Aug.  31,  on  account 
of  a  star  engagement  the  F'lorences  had  to  fill  else- 
where. This  production  led  to  a  famous  lawsuit. 
Lester  Wallack  had  purchased  from  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Bancroft,  the  managers  of  the  Prince  of  Wales  Theatre 
in  London,  the  American  rights  to  "  Caste."  Mr. 
Florence  maintained  that  he  had  seen  the  play  many 
times  in  London,  which  enabled  him  to  write  down  the 
text  and  stage  business  from  memory.     At  that  time 


MR.  AND    MRS.  W.  J.   FLORENCE.  lOI 

the  Supreme  Court  had  not  established  the  precedent, 
that  the  American  rights  to  a  foreign  play  were  pro- 
tected by  law.  Consequently,  as  there  was  no  inter- 
national copyright,  and  there  was  no  evidence  that  Mr. 
Florence  had  procured  the  play  in  an  unlawful  manner, 
the  courts  upheld  him,  and  Mr.  Wallack  lost  the  suit. 
The  Florences  made  quite  a  neat  little  sum  out  of 
"  Caste,"  and  fully  deserved  it  from  the  excellence  of 
their  performance.  Florence  acted  the  part  of  D'Al- 
roy ;  and  Mrs.  Florence  assumed  the  role  of  Polly 
Eccles,  a  part  for  which  she  was  highly  praised  by  the 
critics.  Owen  Marlowe  was  cast  for  Hawtree,  Mrs. 
Chanfrau  for  Esther,  and  Mrs.  G.  li.  Gilbert  for  the 
Marquise  St.  Maur.  It  is  questionable,  however, 
whether  it  was  not  a  breach  of  professionid  etiquette 
for  Mr.  Florence  to  produce  the  piece,  considering 
Mr.  Wallack's  prior  claim. 

On  Oct.  20,  1867,  the  Florences  brought  out  at  Wal- 
lack's an  Irish  drama  entitled  "  Inshavogue."  Mr. 
Florence  began  another  engagement  at  this  house  on 
Sept.  28,  1868,  when,  as  a  result  of  his  summer  visit 
to  England,  he  produced  a  translation  of  the  French 
play  "  L'Abime,"  the  plot  of  which  was  derived  from 
the  Christmas  story  called  "  Xo  Thoroughfare,"  by 
Charles  Dickens  and  Wilkie  Collins.  The  portrayal 
of  Obenreizer  was  a  remarkable  ciiaractcrization  of 
artistic  villany.  It  was  tills  personation  that  placed 
Mr.   Florence  in  the  front  rank  of  American  actors. 

On  Feb.  I,  1869,  tlie  Florences  began  an  engage- 
ment at  Wood's  Museum,  which  closed  on  March  27. 
They  presented  there  another  burlesque,  and  ri'vivals 
of  "The  Ticket-of-Leave  Man"  and  "The  Colleen 
Bawn."    On  Oct.  2,  1871,  they  produced  "  ICileen  Oge," 


I02         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF    TO-DAY. 

an  Irish  drama  by  Edwin  Falkener,  at  the  Grand 
Opera  tlouso,  New  York,  This  was  a  piece  they  had 
secured  during  a  summer  visit  abroad.  It  ran  for  six 
weeks,  and  the  scenery  of  the  production  was  consid- 
ered quite  elaborate  at  the  time. 

The  greatest  money  success  of  the  Florences,  "  The 
Mighty  Dollar,"  was  originally  produced  on  Sept.  6, 
1875,  at  the  Park  Theatre,  New  York.  The  play 
was  written  for  them  by  Benjamin  E.  Woolf,  the  dra- 
matic critic  of  the  Saturday  Evening  Gazette  of  Bos- 
ton. Although  the  piece  was  at  first  condemned  by 
the  critics,  it  ran  for  many  nights,  and  afterward  was 
played  with  great  success  for  a  dozen  years  through- 
out the  country.  The  cast,  besides  Mr.  and  Mrs, 
Florence,  contained  Frank  Weston,  W.  J.  Ferguson, 
E.  M.  Holland,  W.  R.  Floyd,  W.  J.  Carroll,  J.  W.  Shan- 
non, W.  A.  Whitecar,  C.  E.  Edwin,  lone  Burke,  Ethel 
Thornton,  and  Josephine  Baker.  Mr.  Florence  played 
the  part  of  lion.  BardwcU  Slote ;  while  Mrs.  Florence 
impersonated  Mrs.  Gilflory,  the  confiding  widow,  with 
a  good  heart  and  resplendent  vocabulary.  The  I^ard- 
vvell  Slote  of  Florence,  although  necessarily  somewhat 
of  a  caricature  owing  to  the  dramatic  material  pro- 
vided by  the  author,  was  one  of  the  best  humorous 
portrayals  of  a  certain  type  of  American  character  that 
has  ever  been  seen  on  our  stage.  The  popularity  of 
this  piece  was  remarkable,  and  the  Florences  are  said 
to  have  appeared  in  it  more  than  two  thousand  five 
hundred  times. 

It  is  related  that  the  play  came  to  be  written  in  the 
following  manner :  Mrs.  Florence  while  abroad  was 
constantly  amused  at  the  French  phrases  which  wealthy 
but    uneducated    American    women    would    use.      She 


MR.  AND    MRS.  W.  J.  FLORENCE.  IO3 

thought  that  it  would  be  a  good  idea  to  transfer  one 
of  these  persons  to  the  mimic  stage.  Mr.  Florence 
had  also  in  mind  a  character  suited  to  himself  ; 
namely,  that  of  a  good-humored  but  not  over-scrupu- 
lous Western  lawyer.  The  Florences  accordingly  went 
to  Ben  Woolf,  and  had  him  write  a  pkiy  with  these 
two  characters  as  the  prominent  personages.  The 
piece  was  originally  called  "  The  Almighty  Dollar," 
and  was  subsequently  changed  to  "The  Mighty  Dol- 
lar," in  order  to  avoid  criticism  by  religious  people.  It 
enjoyed  a  run  of  one  hundred  nights  on  its  first  pro- 
duction in  New  York,  and  subsequently  ran  there  for 
five  months  in  1876.  In  1880  the  piece  was  presented 
at  the  London  Gaiety  Theatre,  under  the  Ilollingshead 
management ;  but  the  English  audiences  did  not  under- 
stand the  satire  or  the  fun  embodied  in  the  types 
personated  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Florence. 

In  1883  the  Florences  produced  in  Philadelphia  the 
piece  called  "Facts,  or  His  Little  Hatciiet,"  which  was 
written  for  them  by  George  II.  Jessop.  The  title  of 
the  play  was  subsequently  changetl  to  tiiat  of  "  Our 
Governor."  Mr.  Florence  appeared  as  Pinto  Perkins, 
a  politician  who  could  tell  amusing  lies.  After  that 
Florence  essayed  a  piece  called  "  Our  German  Profes- 
.sor,"  by  H.  K.  Woolf,  in  which  he  depicted  some  of  the 
trials  of  an  amatoVy  Teutonic  scholar.  1 1  is  broken 
l^nglish  dialect  in  this  ro/r  was  very  amusing. 

In  March,  1889,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Florence  announced 
their  retirement  from  the  stage  as  joint  stars.  Mrs. 
Florence  started  on  a  European  tour,  and  after  lur 
return  settled  ilown  in  New  York.  Mr.  Morence  con- 
cluded then,  what  had  long  been  talked  of;  to  wit. 
a  Jefferson-Florence   combination;    and    on    Oct.    15, 


104         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS   OF   TO-DAV. 

1889,  William  J.  Florence  and  Joseph  Jefferson  made 
their  joint  appearance  at  the  New  York  Star  Theatre 
in  "The  Rivals;"  Jefferson  taking  the  part  of  Bob 
Acres,  and  Florence  Sir  Lucius  O'Trigger.  Mrs.  John 
Drew  was  engaged  for  the  part  of  ]\Irs.  Malaprop. 
The  organization  met  with  an  enthusiastic  reception 
from  the  start,  and  Florence  was  no  small  factor  of  its 
success.  Besides  Sir  Lucius  O'Trigger,  he  won  enco- 
miums from  the  critics  by  his  excellent  and  lifelike 
embodiment  of  Zekiel  Homespun  in  "  The  Heir  at 
Law."  He  was  last  seen  in  New  York,  at  the  Garden 
Theatre,  on  Oct.  24,  1891. 

While  filling  an  engagement  in  Philadelphia  in  the 
early  part  of  November,  Mr,  Florence  complained  of 
not  feeling  well,  but  continued  to  perform  regularly. 
On  Saturday  evening,  Nov.  14,  after  having  played 
the  part  of  Zekiel  Homespun  at  the  Arch-street 
Theatre,  he  gave  a  supper  party  at  the  Continental 
Hotel  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kendal.  Soon  after  the  close 
of  the  festivities  he  was  taken  ill,  and  physicians 
were  called  in.  He  had  congestion  of  the  lungs  ;  and 
after  danger  from  that  cause  had  practically  ceased,  the 
patient  was  too  weak  to  rally.  His  death,  which  oc- 
curred in  Philadelphia  on  Thursday,  Nov.  18,  at  8.30 
P.M.,  was  attributed  to  heart  failure.  His  sister-in-law 
Mrs.  Barney  Williams,  his  sister  Mrs.  Norman  Ward 
of  Washington,  and  Dr.  Patrick  Donnellan  were  with 
him  when  he  passed  away.  Mrs.  Florence  was  in  Eng- 
land at  the  time  ;  and  the  news  of  her  husband's  death 
was  cabled  to  her,  asking  her  desires  with  regard  to 
the  funeral  arrangements.  Florence's  brother,  Police 
Inspector  Conlin,  who  had  returned  to  New  York  the 
day  previous,  not  expecting  the  crisis  to  come  so  soon, 


MR.  AND    MRS.  W.  J.   FLORENCE.  IO5 

returned  at  once  to  Philadelphia  to  take  charge  of  the 
body. 

In  accordance  with  the  wishes  of  Mrs.  Florence  the 
funeral  ceremony  took  place  in  New  York,  at  St. 
Agnes's  Roman  Catholic  Church,  on  Monday,  Nov. 
23.  The  church  was  filled  with  the  friends  and  ad- 
mirers of  the  dead  comedian.  The  pall  bearers  were 
Edwin  Booth,  A.  M.  Palmer,  John  G.  Heckscher,  Wil- 
liam Winter,  C.  N.  Vilas,  C.  P.  Fearing,  Clayton 
McMichael,  and  John  Russell  Young. 

At  the  time  of  his  death  Mr.  Florence  was  playing 
his  last  season  with  Joseph  Jefferson.  He  had  engaged 
a  manager  and  laid  out  his  plans  for  a  starring  tour 
during  1892- 1893. 

W.  J.  P"lorence  was  the  eldest  of  five  brothers  and 
two  sisters.  He  left  no  children.  By  her  first  hus- 
band Mrs.  Florence  had  a  daughter,  the  actress  known 
as  Josephine  Shepherd,  who  made  her  professional 
d^but  with  Lotta  in  1884.  Several  years  ago  Mrs. 
Florence  became  the  wife  of  Howard  Coveney. 

Through  the  death  of  William  J.  Florence  the  Amer- 
ican stage  lost  one  of  its  foremost  comedians.  We 
have  had  few  actors  who  approached  him  in  humorous 
unction  and  inherent  drollery.  His  characterizations 
were  noted  for  their  originality,  raciness,  and  truth  to 
nature.  His  geniality  was  not  merely  assumed  for 
mimic  purposes.  He  was  one  of  the  most  lovable  of 
men  in  real  life,  a  good  follow  in  the  full  meaning 
of  that  term.  Among  his  numerous  accomplishments 
was  the  gift  of  telling  a  rattling  good  story  ;  and  he  was 
fond  of  a  practical  joke  —  providing  it  was  h;irmless. 
Florence  and  the  elder  Sothern  were  responsible  for 
innumerable  pranks. 


I06        FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

One  day  Sothern  had  invited  Lord  Fitzroy,  the  son 
of  the  Duke  of  Beaufort,  to  a  breakfast.  While  the 
host  was  out  of  the  room,  Florence  persuaded  Fitzroy 
that  his  health  demanded  that  he  should  draw  himself 
up  and  down  on  the  door.  Then  Florence  ran  down 
and  told  Sothern  that  Fitzroy  was  insane,  and  imagined 
that  Florence  wanted  to  murder  him,  and  that  he  was 
trying  to  crawl  out  of  the  transom.  Whereat  Sothern 
rushed  up,  and  with  great  concern  attempted  to  pacify 
the  lordling. 

There  was  no  more  enthusiastic  angler  in  the  country 
than  Mr.  Florence ;  and  he  had  a  place  on  the  Resti- 
gouche  River,  which  he  visited  each  summer  for  the 
purpose  of  fishing.  He  also  had  some  reputation  as 
an  amateur  sportsman  and  politician. 

Florence  himself  attributed  his  success  as  an  actor 
to  simpleness  of  purpose,  strict  attention  to  detail,  and 
a  sinking  of  his  identity  in  whatever  character  he  un- 
dertook to  portray.  As  a  member  of  a  stock  company 
he  preferred  juvenile  roles.  He  spoke  a  little  French, 
some  German,  and  less  Italian.  In  social  life  he  was 
a  universal  favorite.  He  wrote  a  book  on  the  game  of 
poker,  which  was  published  after  his  death. 

His  early  successes  were  due  to  his  spirited  imper- 
sonation of  Irish  characters.  The  critics  agreed  that 
he  reproduced  to  life  a  certain  type  of  devil-may-care 
Irishman,  with  his  rollicking  spirit,  his  dry  humor,  his 
mock  innocence,  his  pathos,  and  his  undercurrent  of 
poetry.  Outside  of  Irish  characters,  his  best  part  was 
generally  considered  to  be  that  of  Captain  Cuttle. 
Charles  Dickens,  upon  seeing  Florence  as  Cuttle  dur- 
ing his  engagement  in  London,  wrote  him  a  letter  com- 
plimenting him  upon  his  excellent  work.     Florence's 


MR.  AND    MRS.  W.  J.  FLORENCE.  IO7 

traits  were  originality  of  type-drawing  and  natural 
drollery.  His  Captain  Cuttle  was  as  good  as  Burton's 
in  the  opinion  of  many  fine  critics.  His  Bardwell  Slote 
was  a  distinct  and  lasting  American  characterization. 
His  Sir  Lucius  O'Trigger  was  almost  as  good  as  that 
of  John  Brougham  and  William  Warren,  while  his 
Zekiel  Homespun  has  probably  never  been  equalled  on 
any  stage. 

In  his  obituary  sketch  of  Florence,  William  Winter, 
the  dramatic  critic  of  The  Tribune,  said  :  "  Few  actors 
within  the  last  forty  years  have  stood  upon  a  level 
with  him  in  versatility,  in  power,  and  in  charm.  To 
his  friends  the  loss  is  unspeakable.  His  gentleness, 
his  simplicity,  his  modesty,  his  affectionate  fidelity,  his 
ready  sympathy,  his  inexhaustible  patience,  his  fine  tal- 
ents,—  all  these  attributes,  united  with  his  spontaneous 
drollery,  serve  to  enshrine  him  in  tender  affection." 

In  an  editorial  reference  to  his  death  in  the  New 
York  Times,  it  was  declared  "that  it  might  be  said 
of  the  death  of  Florence,  as  Lamb  said  of  the  retire- 
ment of  Munden,  '  How  many  worthy  persons  perish 
with  him  ! '  We  shall  never  see  another  Sir  Lucius  and 
Zekiel  Homespun.  Captain  Cuttle  will  only  be  found 
hereafter  in  Dickens's  story.  Bardwell  Slote  and  Pinto 
Perkins  are  dead." 


FANNY    DAVENPORT 

Bv  Jay  B.   Bknton. 


Tfieatrf-ooers  of  Boston  whose  memory  extends 
back  to  performances  thirty  or  more  years  ago  recall 
with  pleasure  a  bright,  chubby  little  girl,  who  appeared 
upon  the  stage  of  the  Howard  Athenaeum  as  a  target- 
bearer  in  the  performance  of  "  Pocahontas,"  and  who 
marched  about  at  the  head  of  a  procession  of  Indian 
girls.  Those  who  lived  in  Louisville,  Ky.,  about  ten 
years  later,  remember  with  delight  the  winsome  sou- 
brette,  whose  capital  impersonations  were  the  talk  of 
the  city,  and  whose  work,  whether  in  "  The  l^lack 
Crook,"  or  in  pieces  of  more  dramatic  merit,  was 
marked  by  conscientious  care.  New  York  amusement 
seekers  of  twenty  years  ago  have  not  forgotten  the 
young  actress  whose  development  they  noted  in  the 
favorite  stock  company  of  the  city,  and  whose  genius 
was  displayed  in  such  a  manner  that  she  was  advanced 
until  she  became  the  leading  ladv  of  the  organization. 
That  chubby  girl  of  Boston,  that  soubrctte  of  Louis- 
ville, that  promising  actress  of  New  York,  was  the 
woman  with  whose  dramatic  work  all  the  United  States 
has  since  become  familiar,  —  Fanny  Davenport. 

After  having  played  with  success  in  Boston  for  sev- 
eral years,  E.  L.  Davenport  attracted  the  attention  of 

1 08 


FANNV  DAVENPORT  IN   ■GISMONOA. 


FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF    T()-I)AV.         IO9 

Mrs.  Anna  Cora  Mowatt  by  the  merit  of  his  work  as 
the  leading  man  of  her  support  during  a  Philadelphia 
engagement.  As  a  result,  he  was  engaged  to  accom- 
pany her  to  England  for  the  tour  which  opened  in 
Manchester,  Dec.  7,  1847.  The  American  actress  and 
actor  won  success  wherever  they  appeared  together, 
and  at  last  they  received  the  encouragement  of  a  Lon- 
don triumph.  When  Mrs.  Mowatt  determined  to  re- 
turn to  America,  her  leading  man,  who  had  shared  in 
her  success  in  every  city,  found  it  to  his  advantage 
to  remain  in  England;  and  shortly  after,  in  1849,  ^^^ 
was  married  to  Fanny  Vining  (Mrs.  Charles  ^Gill),  wiio 
was  one  of  the  actresses  in  the  English  company  which 
had  supported  Mrs.  Mowatt  and  himself. 

It  was  on  April  10,  1850,  in  a  little  house  on  Great 
Russell  Street,  London,  opposite  the  l^ritish  Museum, 
that  their  first  child  was  born,  a  daughter,  whom  they 
christened  Fanny  Lily  Gipsy.  With  his  wife  and 
children  Mr.  Davenport  returned  to  tliis  country  in 
1854,  and  resumed  the  position  on  the  American  stage 
which  he  liad  left  seven  years  before.  lie  soon  came 
back  to  Boston  to  live,  and  it  was  in  the  public  schools 
of  that  city  that  Fanny  Davenport  received  the  first 
part  of  her  education.  However,  it  was  not  from  books 
or  school  that  she  drew  her  inspirations,  but  from  her 
presence  at  the  theatres  in  which  her  parents  were 
Inlaying,  and  from  her  acquaintance  with  the  distin- 
guished actors  and  actresses  who  visited  the  Davenports 
at  their  house.  All  agreed  that  r^uiny  was  a  born 
actress  as  soon  as  they  saw  her  imitations  at  home,  or 
witnessed  the  j)erf()rmance  of  one  of  the  little  j)lays 
written  by  her,  in  whose  jiroduction  she  directed  her 
sisters,  and  enacted  the  j)rincipal  characters.      .Soon  she 


no  FANNY    DAVENPORT. 

had  a  chance  to  make  an  appearance  on  the  regular 
stage,  as  the  child  in  "  Metamora,"  at  the  Howard 
Athenaeum,  where  her  father  and  mother  were  playing. 
From  that  time  on  she  could  be  intrusted  with  chil- 
dren's parts  ;  and  whenever  or  wherever  the  Davenports 
were  playing,  and  a  child  was  needed,  Fanny  was  sure 
to  be  selected. 

Her  first  New  York  experience  was  on  Feb.  23,  1857, 
when  Mr.  Davenport  and  Harry  Watkins  assumed  the 
management  of  Burton's  Chambers  Street  Theatre,  and 
opened  it  under  the  new  name  of  "The  American 
Theatre."  At  the  opening  performance  "The  Star 
Spangled  Banner"  was  sung  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Daven- 
port and  the  entire  company,  among  whom  was  the 
child  whom  the  bills  styled  "Miss  Fanny."  Her  New 
York  experience  at  this  time  was  of  short  duration  ;  for 
the  bills  of  the  Howard  Athenasum,  Boston,  for  July 
19  of  the  same  year,  give  the  cast  of  a  performance  of 
"Pocahontas,"  in  which  Fanny  Davenport  was  assigned 
to  the  part  of  Trot-cr-Obend,  the  target-bearer  ;  her 
mother  playing  the  Indian  princess  ;  her  father.  Captain 
John  Smith ;  and  John  Brougham,  the  author  of  the 
burlesque,  Powhatan. 

In  1859  Mr.  Davenport  became  the  lessee  and  mana- 
ger of  the  Howard  Athenaeum  ;  and  among  the  others 
who  were  enrolled  upon  the  list  of  this  unusually  strong 
stock  company  was  the  now  popular  child-actress, 
Fanny  Davenport.  A  glance  over  the  files  of  the  play- 
bills at  this  house  during  this  period  shows  that  she 
played,  among  other  parts,  the  Peruvian  boy  in  "  Pi- 
zarro"  with  Joseph  Proctor,  the  Genius  of  America  in  a 
war  drama  entitled  "The  Patriot's  Dream,"  and  King 
Charles  IT.  in   "  Faint   Heart  Never  Won   Fair  Lady," 


FANNY   DAVENPORT.  Ill 

on  Oct.  29,  i860.  It  was  in  this  last-named  part  that 
she  made  her  real  metropolitan  debut  at  Niblo's  Gar- 
den, Feb.  14,  1862,  when  she  played  with  her  father  as 
Ruy  Gomez,  and  her  mother  as  The  Duchess  of  Terra- 
nueva,  the  same  parts  which  they  had  previously  acted 
in  the  Boston  performance. 

After  acting  with  her  parents  in  other  cities,  she 
made  her  first  appearance  in  an  adult  part  at  the  little 
Tremont  Theatre,  Boston.  The  play  was  "Still  Waters 
Run  Deep,"  and  she  was  cast  for  the  part  of  Mrs. 
Mildmay.  This  was  with  Wallack  and  Davenport's 
combination,  an  organization  of  whicii  Rose  I'^ytinge 
was  the  leading  lady.  Soon  the  young  actress's  profes- 
sional position  became  such  that  she  received  offers 
to  play  alone  ;  and  at  length  she  decided  to  accept  the 
place  of  soubrette  in  the  stock  company  at  the  Louis- 
ville Theatre,  and,  leaving  home  and  friends,  she  went 
South.  Her  first  part  was  Carline  in  "The  Black 
Crook,"  and  her  success  was  pronounced  from  the  first. 

Her  ne.xt  important  engagement  was  at  the  Arch 
Street  Theatre,  Philadelphia,  where  she  appearetl  as 
Sf>ubrette  in  dramas,  farces,  and  operas,  among  them 
"  Barbe  Bleue,"  under  the  management  of  Mrs.  Jolin 
Drew.  It  was  here  that  she  attracted  the  attention  of 
Augustin  Daly,  who  offered  her  a  position  in  his  stDck 
company  at  the  old  Fifth  Avenue  Theatre  on  Twenty- 
fourth  Street.  Mr.  Daly  had  only  been  manager  of 
the  house  for  si.v  weeks  when,  on  .Sejit.  29.  1869,  Miss 
Davenport  made  her  first  appearance  with  the  company 
as  Lady  Gay  .Spanker  in  "London  Assur inci.'."  The 
cast  included  father  and  daughter,  Mr.  Davenport  play- 
ing the  part  of  Sir  Harcourt  Courtly.  Her  success  at 
the  very  outset  of  her  New  \'ork  experience  in  a  play 


I  I  2  FAMOUS   AMERICAN   ACTORS   OF  TO-DAY. 

of  this  nature  was  repeated  in  the  subsequent  revival 
of  old  comedies  which  had  been  practically  forgotten, 
but  which  were  received  with  great  favor.  Notable 
among  these  were  her  impersonations  of  Miss  Richland 
in  Goldsmith's  "The  Good-Natured  Man,"  Lady  Mary 
in  Mrs.  Inchbald's  "  Maids  as  They  Are  and  Wives  as 
They  Were,"  and  Violetta  in  Colley  Gibber's  **  She 
Wou'd  and  She  Wou'd  Not." 

It  was  not  in  the  revivals  of  semi-forgotten  dramas 
that  her  only  hits  were  made  ;  for  she  was  equally  suc- 
cessful as  Letitia  Hardy  in  "The  Belle's  Stratagem," 
and  Mistress  Ford  in  "The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor." 
In  the  Robertsonian  drama  she  had  the  opportunity  of 
playing;  and  her  Polly  Eccles  in  "Caste,"  and  Rosie 
Farquhere  in  "  Play,"  are  remembered  by  New  Yorkers 
witii  pleasure.  Among  the  other  performances  which 
she  gave  at  this  house  were  Alice  Hawthorne  in  "  Old 
Heads  and  Young  Hearts,"  Mrs.  Madison  Noble  in 
Olive  Logan's  "  Surf,"  Effie  Remington  in  Bronson 
Howard's  "  Saratoga,"  the  Baroness  and  Fernande  in 
two  different  productions  of  "  Fernande,"  the  Jackson 
version  of  Sardou's  "  Andrea,"  the  Baroness  de  Mirac 
in  "Article  47,"  and  Nellie  Wikoff  in  "Diamonds." 
When  Mr.  Daly  produced  "Divorce"  at  this  theatre. 
Miss  Davenport  was  cast  as  the  sprightly  Lu  Ten 
Eyck,  and  later  on  she  played  the  part  of  Fanny  Ten 
Eyck  in  the  same  play. 

When  the  pretty  little  theatre  in  Twenty-fourth 
Street  was  burned,  and  Mr.  Daly  transferred  his  stock 
company  to  the  old  Globe  Theatre  on  Broadway,  Miss 
Davenport  remained  in  the  organization  until  the  new 
Fifth  Avenue  on  Twenty-eighth  Street  was  completed. 
At  the  opening  performance,  Dec.  3,   1873,  James  Al- 


FANNY    DAVENPORT, 


113 


berry's  "  Fortune  "  was  played ;  and  Miss  Davenport 
was  cast  as  Kitty  Compton,  the  housekeeper.  A  Httle 
later  W.  S.  Gilbert's  "Charity"  was  given  ;  and  in  this 
she  played  Madge  the  tramp,  and  developed  dramatic 
power  that  was  unexpected  by  those  who  had  seen  her 
earlier  performances.  This  hit  was  so  great  that  it 
induced  Mr.  Daly  to  write  "Pique,"  in  which  Miss  Dav- 
enport created  the  part  of  Mabel  Renfrew,  and  eclipsed 
all  her  earlier  triumphs.  The  piece  was  produced  at 
the  Fifth  Avenue,  Dec.  14,  1876,  and  had  a  run  of  two 
hundred  and  thirty-eight  consecutive  performances. 

During  the  next  season,  which  was  Mr.  Daly's  last 
as  the  manager  of  the  house,  Miss  Davenport's  chief 
successes  were  Rosalind  in  the  production  of  "  As 
You  Like  It,"  and  Mary  Stark  in  "  Lemons."  Then 
began  her  career  as  a  theatrical  star,  in  which  she  vis- 
ited all  parts  of  the  country  with  success.  At  first  her 
efforts  were  devoted  to  Mabel  Renfrew  in  "  Pique  ;  "  but 
it  was  not  long  before  she  began  playing  a  varied  reper- 
toire, a  policy  which  she  continued  until  the  season  of 
1 883- 1 884.  Her  plays  included  tragedy  and  comedy, 
works  of  the  modern  F'rench  stage  and  the  Shake- 
spearian drama. 

Up  to  the  close  of  her  playing  in  a  n'pertoire  Miss 
Davenport  had  been  seen  in  a  long  list  of  jxirts.  In 
Shakespeare's  plays  she  had  acted  Rosalind  in  "  As 
You  Like  it,"  Imogen  in  "  Cymbeline,"  Rosaline  in 
*'  Love's  Labor's  Lost,"  Beatrice  in  "Much  Ado  About 
Nothing,"  and  Lady  Macbeth,  in  which  she  was  less 
successful  than  in  the  others.  Among  the  other  poetic 
or  tragic  j)arts  which  she  played  were  Pauline  in  "The 
Lady  of  Lyons,"  and  Leah  in  "  Leah  the  I'orsaken." 
In  the  old  comedies,   including  in   that   list    the    more 


11^.  FAMOUS   AMERICAN    ACTORS   OK   TO-DAY. 

modern  plays  which  common  consent  now  places  there, 
she  has  acted  Lady  Teazle  in  "The  School  for  Scan- 
dal," Julia  in  "  The  Honeymoon,"  Miss  Hardcastle  in 
"She  Stoops  to  Conquer,"  Tilburina  in  "The  Critic," 
and  Peg  Woffington  in  "  Masks  and  Faces,"  in  addi- 
tion to  the  parts  previously  mentioned.  One  of  the 
most  successful  of  her  impersonations  was  Nancy 
Sikes  in  a  novel  dramatization  of  "  Oliver  Twist ; " 
while  her  Camille  was  particularly  well  acted,  in  fact, 
one  of  the  best  on  the  American  stage,  although  in 
personal  appearance  she  was  hardly  an  ideal  repre- 
sentative of  Dumas's  consumptive  heroine.  Other 
characters  which  she  has  given  are  Gilberte  in  "Frou 
Frou,"  Estie  in  "  Blue  Glass,"  Bell  Van  Rensslaer  in 
Bronson  Howard's  "  Moorcroft,"  Francine  of  the  pearl 
gray  in  Daly's  "  Two  Widows,"  Duchess  de  Sept- 
monts  in  "  The  American,"  Daly's  adaptation  of 
Dumas's  "  L'Etrangere,"  Eugenia  Cadwallader  in 
"  The  Big  Bonanza,"  Helen  Gaythorne  in  "  Weak 
Woman,"  Mary  Melrose  in  "  Our  Boys,"  Dianthe  de 
Marel  in  "What  Should  She  Do.'"  and  Madame 
Guichard  in  "Monsieur  Alphonse."  The  least  suc- 
cessful of  her  impersonations  were  Olivia  in  Wills's 
dramatization  of  "The  Vicar  of  Wakefield,"  and  Kate 
Vivian  in  Anna  Dickinson's  "An  American  Girl;" 
but  the  failure  of  success  in  the  latter  case  was  due 
more  to  the  play  than  to  the  actress. 

Miss  Davenport  had  made  several  pleasure  trips 
abroad,  but  up  to  1882  she  had  never  acted  there. 
Then  she  made  a  professional  visit  to  England,  and 
played  for  a  brief  season  in  London  and  elsewhere. 
The  principal  piece  in  which  she  was  seen  was 
"  Pique,"  which  was  played  under  the  title  of  "Only  a 


FANNV    DAVKNPORT, 


115 


Woman,"  but  it  failed  to  win  the  success  tliere  wiiich 
it  had  made  in  this  country. 

In  1883  began  a  new  chapter  in  the  actress's  history. 
Until  that  time  her  engagements  had  been  devoted  to 
several  plays  ;  and  although  their  popularity  had  not 
diminished,  Miss  Davenport  felt  that  she  could  win  ad- 
ditional laurels  in  new  parts.  Sarah  Bernhardt  was  at 
that  time  the  talk  of  all  Paris  for  her  impersonation 
of  Fedora,  in  Sardou's  play  of  that  name  ;  but  no  Amer- 
ican actress  had  secured  the  rights  to  the  piece.  Cer- 
tain of  success.  Miss  Davenport  obtained  the  i:)lay, 
appeared  in  New  York  in  1883,  and  made  the  hit  which 
she  had  anticipated.  Her  impersonation  was  no  imita- 
tion of  the  French  actress  ;  it  was  a  forcible,  distinct 
conception  of  the  part.  As  such  it  met  with  appro- 
bation from  critics,  and  praise  from  audiences  ;  and  for 
five  seasons  Miss  Davenport  had  no  necessity  of  obtain- 
ing a  new  piece,  although  during  the  latter  seasons  siie 
made  occasional  appearances  in  the  successful  pieces 
of  her  earlier  career.  In  1887  Madame  Bernhardt's 
success  in  "La  Tosca"  abroad  led  Miss  Davenport 
to  think  it  advisable  to  obtain  the  rights  for  that  piece 
for  America,  which  she  did,  repeating  the  success  of 
Fedora  in  her  performance  in  Sardou's  harrowing  play, 
which  she  gave  for  the  first  time  at  the  opening  of  the 
Broadway  Theatre,  March  3,  1888. 

Sardou's  "  Cleopatra  "  was  the  third  of  Sarah  Bern- 
hardt's pieces  for  Miss  Davenport  to  produce  in  this 
country.  Having  obtained  the  American  rights  to  it, 
she  made  preparations  for  its  first  performance  at  the 
Fifth  Avenue  Theatre,  at  the  opening  of  which  she  had 
played  a  little  over  seventeen  years  before.  IClaborate 
preparations  had  been   made  for  a  spectacular  produc- 


Il6  FAMOUS   AMERICAN   ACTORS   OF   TO-DAY. 

tion  ;  and  on  Dec.  23,  1890,  the  play  was  given  for  the 
first  time  in  this  country.  Months  had  been  spent  in 
the  preparation,  and  the  result  was  a  triumph  for  the 
strength  of  the  acting,  for  the  richness  of  costuming, 
and  for  the  elaborateness  of  mounting.  However,  the 
triumph  was  of  short  duration  ;  for,  on  the  night  of  Jan. 
2,  1891,  the  house  was  burned,  and  everything  was 
destroyed.  Miss  Davenport,  who,  as  for  several  sea- 
sons, was  her  own  manager,  was  hardly  disconcerted 
for  a  moment.  She  was  booked  to  appear  in  Boston  in 
three  weeks,  and  she  determined  to  fulfil  the  engage- 
ment, and  she  did.  New  scenic  artists  were  summoned, 
costumers  were  set  at  work,  and  skilful  men  began  pre- 
paring the  music  which  formed  so  important  a  factor  in 
the  production.  Although  the  achievement  was  almost 
as  magical  as  the  erection  of  Aladdin's  palace,  every- 
thing was  gotten  in  readiness  ;  and  on  Jan.  27,  1891,  the 
piece  was  presented  at  the  Hollis  Street  Theatre,  Bos- 
ton, with  an  equipment  that  was  fully  as  elaborate  as 
that  which  had  been  destroyed  by  fire  only  three  weeks 
before,  and  which  had  taken  months  for  its  preparation. 

Miss  Davenport's  fourth  and  last  Sardou  production 
was  that  of  "Gismonda,"  which  Bernhardt  had  pro- 
duced before  her  in  Paris.  This  was  given  for  the  first 
time  in  the  fall  of  1894  in  New  York,  with  the  most 
elaborate  scenic  production  that  Miss  Davenport  had 
ever  had,  and  has  continued  to  be  the  leading  feature  of 
her  repertoire  since  that  time. 

So  much  must  suffice  for  the  summary  of  the  profes- 
sional life  of  the  actress.  Miss  Davenport  has  had  two 
husbands.  On  July  30,  1879,  ^"^^  ^^^  married  to  Ed- 
win H.  Price,  an  actor  who  had  supported  her  in  her 
travelling  company.     He  accompanied  her  on  her  tours, 


FANNY   DAVENPORT. 


117 


acting  during  the  first  years,  and  performing  the  du- 
ties of  business  manager  later.  They  were  divorced 
on  June  8,  1888;  and  on  May  19,  1889,  Miss  Davenport 
married  Melbourne  MacDovvell,  an  actor  who  had  been 
a  member  of  her  company  for  some  time,  and  who  now 
appears  as  her  leading  man. 

P'or  years  Miss  Davenport's  home,  where  she  spent 
her  summer  vacations,  was  at  Canton,  Pa.,  a  delight- 
ful spot,  picturesquely  situated  among  the  mountain.s. 
It  was  the  place  picked  out  by  her  father  for  his  sum- 
mer home,  and  the  daughter  was  so  charmed  with  the 
spot  that  she  purchased  a  neighboring  estate  for  her- 
self. It  was  at  Canton  that  E.  L.  Davenport  died, 
on  Sept.  I,  1877;  and  his  widow  passed  away  at  her 
daughter's  home,  July  20,  1891. 

Later  Miss  Davenport  chose  Duxbury,  Mass.,  for  her 
summer  residence;  and  when  her  season's  professional 
work  is  over,  she  retires  to  her  beautiful  resilience 
there,  and  passes  the  summer  months  in  quiet.  Her 
sister  May  (Mrs.  William  Seymour)  has  a  home  near 
by,  and  other  members  of  the  family  have  summer  resi- 
dences at  the  same  delightful  spot. 

Recent  theatre-goers  at  the  mention  of  Miss  Daven- 
port's name  think  of  her  Gismonda.  It  is  a  remark- 
able impersonation,  full  of  dramatic  power,  and  a  fitting 
central  figure  for  the  magnificent  scenic  equipment 
which  she  has  provided  for  the  performance.  Her  La 
Tosca  will  be  remembered  even  longer  than  her  Gis- 
monda ;  for  the  varying  phases  of  Sardou's  Tuscan  her- 
oine seem  almost  as  if  created  expressly  for  her.  In 
the  soft,  languorous  moments,  in  her  cooing  petulance, 
in  the  rage  of  jealousy,  in  her  pleading  fondness,  in 
her  terrible  struggles,  in  the  carrying  out  of  her  horri- 


1  1 8  FAMOUS   AMERICAN   ACTORS   OF  TO-DAY. 

ble  revenge  on  Scarpia,  she  was  always  excellent,  and 
oftentimes  great.  No  one  can  forget  the  thrill  which 
attended  the  stabbing  scene,  or  the  pathos  of  her  dis- 
covery that  her  lover  was  dead,  and  not  shamming  as 
she  had  thought.  Fedora  was  also  a  part  which  fitted 
her  perfectly;  and  her  acting  was  in  some  respects  even 
superior  to  Madame  Bernhardt's  impersonation,  having 
more  blood,  more  humanity,  more  heart.  It  was  a 
womanly  conception,  and  one  which  carried  an  audience 
with  it  irresistibly. 

Of  the  parts  with  which  she  was  identified  in  her 
earlier  career,  her  Rosalind  was  a  most  pleasing  per- 
formance, being  graceful  and  neat.  To  her  Rosalind 
was  a  genuine  young  woman,  sensitive  and  emotional, 
but  strong  with  the  courage  of  her  needs  and  of  her  situ- 
ation. In  her  hands  Leah  was  treated  with  sympathetic 
intelligence,  and  invested  with  picturesque  force,  which 
at  the  climax  of  the  fourth  act  rose  to  great  tragic 
power.  In  "The  School  for  Scandal  "  Miss  Davenport 
was  thoroughly  charming,  her  impersonation  being 
sparkling,  graceful,  and  polished.  Her  conception  was 
an  honest  one,  and  the  screen  scene  has  seldom  been 
better  acted  than  by  her.  Beatrice  in  "Much  Ado 
About  Nothing  "  was  played  with  freshness,  vigor,  wo- 
manliness, and  sparkle  ;  and  the  lighter  scenes  received 
especially  fine  interpretation.  From  the  very  outset  of 
her  career  Fanny  Davenj)ort  has  taken  a  conspicuous 
place  in  the  theatrical  world,  and  she  has  done  much 
to  continue  the  reputation  of  a  name  which  was  already 
distinguished. 


J.   LESTER  WALLACK   IN    "  ROSEDALE.' 


JOHN   LESTER  WALLACK. 

By  Julian  Magnus. 


The  death  of  John  Lester  Wallack,  at  Stamford, 
Conn.,  on  Sept.  6,  1888,  took  from  the  American  stage 
the  last  of  the  great  "  light  comedians  "  that  there  was 
any  prospect  of  seeing  again  on  its  boards.  It  is  true 
that  James  K.  Murdoch  was  alive,  but  he  hail  long 
ceased  to  act;  whereas  Mr.  Wallack  entertained  a  hope 
of  recovering  from  the  sciatic  affection  which  had 
partially  lamed  him  for  about  two  years,  and  again 
playing  some  of  his  best-known  jxirts.  The  fact  tiiat 
I  have  named  Lester  Wallack  as  a  great  "light  co- 
median "  must  not  be  taken,  by  those  who  did  not  know 
his  many-sided  talents,  to  mean  that  it  was  only  in  this 
branch  of  his  art  that  he  was  accomplished  ;  he  was 
an  excellent  actor  of  serious  parts,  and  a  showy  and 
effective  hero  in  many  melodramas,  but  it  was  in  light 
comedy  that  he  shone  pre-eminent. 

Wallack  was  born  in  New  York,  Jan.  i,  1820.  1 1  is 
father,  James  W.  Wallack  the  ekler,  then  acting  in 
that  city,  and  his  mother,  were  both  Lnglish.  Lester 
was  taken  to  Kngland  when  very  young,  and  echuated 
there.  For  a  siiort  time  he  held  a  commission  in  the 
Knglish  army — a  career  to  which  his  elder  brother 
dcvt)ted  his  life.      Lester  was,  however,  evidently  des- 

119 


120         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF    TO-DAY. 

tined  for  the  stage;  and  the  record  of  his  first  public 
appearance  is  at  Dublin,  in  1842,  under  the  name  of 
John  W.  Lester,  as  Don  Pedro  in  "  Much  Ado  About 
Nothing."  Mr.  Wallack  once  told  me  that  his  first 
appearance  was  made  in  Rochester,  England,  in  the 
part  of  Rochester  in  a  comedy  dealing  with  the  time 
of  Charles  II.  ;  but  I  cannot  get  this  confirmed. 

It  may  be  encouraging  to  many  young  actors  and 
actresses  to  learn  that,  at  the  outset  of  his  career,  Les- 
ter Wallack  was  very  unpromising.  His  contempo- 
raries were  unanimous  on  this  point,  and  I  have  often 
heard  him  cordially  confirm  their  report.  For  two 
seasons  Lester  Wallack  continued  to  play  in  Dublin  ; 
from  there  he  went  to  Edinburgh,  where  he  was  in 
the  same  company  with  John  Parselle  —  afterwards  so 
well  liked  at  the  Union  Square  Theatre,  New  York. 
Lester  also  played  a  short  engagement  at  the  Hay- 
market  Theatre,  London.  On  Sept.  27,  1847,  still 
playing  as  John  W.  Lester,  he  made  his  first  appear- 
ance on  the  American  stage  at  the  New  York  Broad- 
way Theatre,  in  the  character  of  Sir  Charles  Coldstream 
in  Dion  Boucicault's  adaptation,  "  Used  Up."  Some 
time  after  he  joined  his  father's  company  at  the  theatre 
formerly  known  as  Brougham's  Lyceum,  and  assumed 
the  onerous  positions  of  stage-manager  and  leading 
man. 

He  did  not  put  his  name  as  "Wallack  "  on  the  play- 
bills till  the  theatre  at  the  corner  of  Thirteenth  Street, 
now  known  as  the  Star,  was  built.  This  was  opened 
in  the  fall  of  1861,  with  a  play  entitled  "The  New  Presi- 
dent," which  did  not  prove  successful.  James  W.  Wal- 
lack's  name  was  retained  as  proprietor  and  manager 
until  his  death,  in   1864,  though  he  never  acted  on  the 


JOHN    LESTER   WALLACK.  12  1 

Stage  of  the  Thirteenth  Street  house,  as  during  his  la- 
test years  he  was  a  great  sufferer  from  rheumatic  gout. 
Lester  Wallack,  with  the  able  assistance  of  Theodore 
Moss  in  the  business  department,  managed  that  theatre 
with  almost  constant  success  till  the  newer  and  last 
Wallack's,  now  Palmer's,  was  built  at  the  corner  of 
Thirtieth  Street  and  Broadway.  It  was  opened  on  Jan. 
4,  1882,  with  "The  School  for  Scandal  ;"  but  Lester 
Wallack  did  not  play  in  it,  as  he  had  for  several  years 
prior  given  up  the  part  of  Charles  Surface,  for  which 
he  said  he  was  too  old  and  too  heavy.  He,  however, 
continued  to  play  Charles  Marlowe  and  Charles  Court- 
ley,  and  all  who  saw  those  characterizations  could  not 
but  regret  that  they  were  unable  to  see  him  in  Sheri- 
dan's masterpiece.  The  removal  to  Thirtieth  Street 
was  not  attended  with  the  success  that  was  hoped  for ; 
and  after  several  seasons  of  varying  fortunes,  Mr.  Wal- 
lack subleased  the  theatre  for  one  season  to  Henry  E. 
Abbey.  The  new  manager  was  not  any  more  success- 
ful, and  after  one  season  was  glad  to  retire.  Theodore 
Moss,  who  had  become  the  owner  of  the  property, 
after  carrying  on  the  business  for  some  time  under  his 
own  direction,  made  an  arrangement  whereby  A.  M. 
Palmer  assumed  the  control. 

No  other  actor  that  New  York  has  known  has  suc- 
ceeded in  holding  for  so  long  a  time  as  did  Lester 
Wallack  the  first  place  in  its  affection  as  an  actor  and 
a  manager,  and  none  has  attained  the  same  .social  posi- 
tion and  recognition.  The  strongest  proof  of  the 
esteem  in  which  he  was  held  was  furnished  by  the 
wonderful  results  of  the  testimonial  benefit  given  to 
him  at  the  Metroj>oHtan  Opera  House  on  May  21,  1888, 
when  nearly  twenty-one  thousand  dollars  was  realized 


122         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS   OF   TO-DAY. 

and  presented  to  Mrs.  Wallack,  Mr.  Wallack  himself 
declining  to  accept  the  money.  The  benefit  was  splen- 
didly managed  by  A.  M.  Palmer,  Augustin  Daly,  and 
committees  of  eminent  actors  and  newspaper  men. 
At  the  actual  date  of  the  performance  Mr.  Daly  was 
in  Europe,  and  the  bulk  of  the  work  fell  upon  A.  M. 
Palmer.  The  play  was  "  Hamlet,"  and  the  cast  was 
composed  of  the  most  famous  actors  and  actresses  in 
the  country.  Those  who  were  not  assigned  parts 
"  went  on  "  as  supernumeraries,  and  such  an  array  of 
well-known  players  was  never  before  seen  on  any  stage 
in  this  country.  Edwin  Booth  was  Hamlet;  Modjeska, 
Ophelia ;  Lawrence  Barrett,  the  Ghost  ;  and  Jefferson 
and  P'lorence,  the  Grave-diggers.  After  the  second  act 
Mr.  Wallack  made  a  speech  of  thanks,  and  said  that, 
if  God  spared  him  and  again  gave  him  the  use  of  his 
"  rebellious  limbs,"  he  hoped  to  resume  acting.  But, 
as  previously  stated,  it  was  less  than  four  months 
afterwards  that  the  final  curtain  fell  on  his  brilliant 
career. 

Few  men  have  been  more  gifted  by  nature  for  suc- 
cess on  the  stage  than  was  Lester  Wallack.  He  pos- 
sessed a  singularly  handsome,  mobile,  and  expressive 
face,  a  tall,  powerful,  and  graceful  figure,  and  a  remark- 
ably pleasing  speaking  and  singing  voice.  Above  all 
he  had  that  indefinable  quality  we  have  come  to  call 
"magnetism,"  and  that  confidence  in  his  ability  to  hold 
and  delight  an  audience  which  arose  from  long  years 
of  success.  Lester  Wallack  was  a  product  of  the  old 
school,  which  made  actors,  and  not  specialists.  While 
he  did  not  venture  into  the  domain  of  heavy  tragedy, 
he  played  many  powerfully  emotional  parts,  —  one  of 
the  best  being  Hugh  Trevor  in  **A11  for  Her," — and 


JOHN    LESTER   WALLACK.  1 23 

traversed  all  the  range  of  the  drama  to  the  frailest  of 
farce.  He  took  the  then  considered  inferior  part  of 
Charles  Courtley  in  "  London  Assurance,"  and  made 
it  more  important  than  that  of  Dazzle.  When  he 
played  "Ours,"  Hugh  Chalcote  became  the  most 
prominent  part,  although  originally  it  was  played  by 
a  low  comedian.  In  fact,  with  Lester  VVallack  it  was 
very  much  the  old  story  that  "  where  McGregor  sits 
there  is  the  head  of  the  table."  Yet  he  was  too  good 
an  artist  ever  to  force  himself  or  his  part  into  undue 
prominence. 

To  say  in  what  characters  he  excelled  would  be  to 
give  an  enormously  long  list,  and  then  some  would  be 
surely  left  out  that  many  of  his  older  admirers  would 
want  included.  To  the  writer,  who  only  knew  him 
during  the  last  fifteen  years  of  his  active  career,  he 
seemed  to  be  at  his  best  in  Charles  Surface,  Charles 
Courtley,  Elliot  Grey,  Hugh  Chalcote,  Charles  Mar- 
lowe, and  in  "  The  Captain  of  the  Watch,"  and  "  My 
Awful  Dad."  On  looking  over  the  records  of  one  of 
the  earlier  seasons  at  the  first  Wallack's  Theatre,  I  find 
that  John  Lester  played  nearly  ninety  different  parts, 
and  that  in  nearly  half  of  these  he  appeared  for  the 
first  time.  What  would  one  of  our  young  society 
actors  of  today  think  of  such  a  season's  work  added  to 
the  hard  labors  of  stage -management  ?  It  was  to  this 
.schooling,  however,  that  Mr.  Wallack  attributed  his 
own  success.  He  was  a  believer  in  the  theory  that 
"  an  actor  is  made,  not  born,"  and  his  own  early  efforts 
gave  foundation  for  the  belief.  He  attained  a  bright- 
ness, a  vivacity,  a  grace,  a  quickness,  and  a  charm  which 
have  not  been  equalled  within  the  memory  of  the  pres- 
ent generation  of  theatre-goers. 


I  24        FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

Above  and  beyond  all  these  qualities  was  the  sense 
of  vitality  and  earnestness  in  his  work.  He  acted,  as 
he  used  to  say,  "  all  over."  He  was  not  content  to 
speak  his  lines  ;  but  he  played  with  his  body,  his  legs, 
his  arms,  his  hands,  and  even  his  feet.  There  were 
meaning  and  emphasis  in  every  gesture ;  and  yet  his 
gestures  were  abundant,  though  never  redundant.  He 
was  the  only  actor  I  have  ever  seen  trained  in  the 
"legitimate"  who  could  be  equally  at  home  in  the  "tea- 
cup and  saucer"  comedy.  No  amount  of  work  was  too 
great  for  him  at  rehearsals.  As  a  stage-manager  he 
was  infinitely  the  best  I  have  ever  seen  or  played  under. 
He  would,  if  necessary,  act  all  the  parts  in  the  piece, 
those  of  the  women  included  ;  and  the  actor  who  could 
not  learn  to  play  acceptably  under  his  direction  must 
have  been  entirely  unfitted  for  the  stage.  When  play- 
ing under  another  stage-manager  or  author,  —  such,  for 
instance,  as  Dion  Boucicault,  —  Lester  Wallack  was  as 
pliable  and  obedient  as  any  member  of  the  cast. 

While  not  a  writer  of  especially  brilliant  or  strong 
dialogue,  Lester  Wallack  put  together  several  ex- 
tremely effective  plays,  the  situations  of  which  were 
handled  with  the  appreciative  skill  of  a  clever  actor  and 
stage-manager,  and  supplied  with  "talk"  which  pleased 
and  amused.  Mr.  Wallack's  plays  were  not  strikingly 
original  in  theme,  and  in  some  he  had  the  advantage  of 
collaboration.  Among  the  best  known  are  "Rosedale," 
which  alone  drew  a  fortune,  "The  Veteran,"  "Cen- 
tral Park  ;"  dramatizations  of  "The  Three  Guardsmen," 
"  The  Four  Musketeer.s,"  and  "  Monte  Cristo  ;  "  "  The 
Fortune  of  War,"  "Two  to  One,"  "First  Impressions," 
and  a  comedy  written  in  conjunction  with  W.  H 
Hurlburt,  called,  I  think,  "  Americans  in  Paris."     Mr. 


JOHN    LESTER    WALLACK.  1 25 

Wallack's  pen  was  also  often  effectively  employed  in 
touching  up  and  altering  plays  produced  on  his  stage. 

As  a  manager,  Lester  Wallack  was  liberal  and  enter- 
prising, although  in  rather  narrow  limits,  up  to  within 
the  last  few  years  of  his  active  life,  when  he  seemed  to 
lose  heart  and  courage.  He  mounted  and  dressed  his 
plays  superbly,  and  was  ever  liberal,  considerate,  cour- 
teous, and  encouraging  to  the  members  of  his  company. 
He  was,  unfortunately,  the  last  of  the  resident  actor- 
manager.s  ;  and  his  people  felt  that  he  was  a  man  who 
was  in  thorough  sympathy  with  their  artistic  aims,  who 
would  appreciate  with  what  pains  they  achieved  suc- 
cess, and  who  could  discern  and  feel  grateful  for  the 
earnestness  and  endeavor  which  might  not  result  so 
fortunately.  His  revival  of  "Much  Ado,"  in  wliich  he 
played  Benedick  to  the  Beatrice  of  Rose  Ey tinge,  has 
not,  in  point  of  sumptuousness,  good  taste,  or  correct- 
ness of  detail,  been  surpassed  by  any  subsequent  set- 
ting of  Shakespearian  comedy. 

Perhaps  the  most  marked  fault  of  Lester  Wallack's 
management,  and  one  that  more  than  all  others  con- 
tributed to  his  later  failures,  was  his  extreme  devotion 
to  English  plays  and  English  actors.  He  failed  to 
recognize  the  gradually  growing  demand  for  American 
plays  and  players  ;  and  though,  at  long  intervals,  he 
gave  an  American  author  a  chance,  he  wa.s  not  fortu- 
nate in  his  selections,  and  did  not  seem  to  be  much 
grieved  at  failure. 

As  a  man,  Lester  Wallack  was  brave,  honest,  and 
true.  He  had  read  much  and  thought  much,  and  was  a 
delightful  and  entertaining  companion,  and  a  firm  and 
loyal  friend  to  those  he  admitted  to  his  intimacy, 
thou^rh  this  number  was  somewhat  restricted.       It  was 


126         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

my  privilege  to  be  associated  with  him  for  several 
years,  occasionally  acting  with  him,  and  at  other  times 
in  the  business  of  the  theatre ;  and  it  has  never  been 
my  good  fortune  to  meet  with  a  man  more  capable  of 
inspiring  general  respect  and  genuine  affection. 

Lester  Wallack  married  a  sister  of  the  English  artist, 
John  Everett  Millais.  They  had  three  sons,  Charles, 
Arthur,  and  Harold,  and  one  daughter.  None  of  the 
sons  has  acted  ;  but  Arthur  was  at  one  time  associated 
in  the  management  of  Wallack's,  and  has  shown  some 
ability  as    a  dramatist. 


MRS.  JOHN   DREW  AS  MRS.   MALAPROP. 


MRS.  JOHN   DREW. 

By  T.  Ai-i^ton  Brown. 


Louisa  Lane  was  born  in  England,  Jah.  lo,  1818. 
Her  mother,  afterwards  Mrs.  l£liza  Kinlock,  was  mar- 
ried to  Mr.  Lane,  an  English  actor  and  manager,  who 
died  when  our  heroine  was  in  her  infancy.  Louisa 
was  taken  on  the  stage  by  her  mother,  when  only 
nine  months  old,  in  a  play  called  "Giovanni  in  Lon- 
don ;"  and  all  she  had  to  do  was  to  cry,  at  which  she 
was  not  a  success.  This,  I  believe,  is  the  only  time 
in  seventy  and  more  years  that  this  lady  has  failed  to 
fulfil  the  requirements  of  the  role  assigned  her. 

Her  first  important  sjiL'aking  character  was  Agib 
in  "  Timour  the  Tartar,"  at  the  Liverpool  Theatre.  In 
company  with  her  mother  she  came  to  America,  arriv- 
ing here  in  the  summer  of  1827.  Her  American  debut 
took  place  at  the  Walnut  Street  Theatre,  Philadelphia, 
Sept.  26,  1827,  as  the  Duke  of  York  to  the  elder 
l^ooth's  Richard  HI.  Her  first  aj^pearance  in  New 
York  was  at  the  Old   Howery  Theatre,  March  3,  1828. 

In  company  with  her  mother  she  visited  many  of 
the  principal  cities  of  the  country.  In  Piiiladelphi.i, 
on  Jan.  5,  1829,  she  made  her  first  appearance  at  the 
old  Chestnut  Street  Theatre.  Miss  Line  sustained 
five  different  characters  in  a  new  farce  called  "  Twelve 

127 


128        FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS   OF    TO-DAY^ 

Precisely,"  and  Little  Pickle  in  "The  Spoiled  Child." 
In  the  first  piece  she  personated  an  Irish  character, 
and  for  a  child  of  eleven  years  her  versatility  was  won- 
derful ;  her  brogue  and  manner  were  excellent.  More- 
over, her  performance  of  Little  Pickle  possessed  great 
merit.  Three  days  later  she  acted  Dr.  Pangloss  ; 
and  that  impersonation  was  pronounced  by  the  critics 
"the  best  since  the  days  of  Twaits,"  yet,  at  the  same 
time,  he  never  produced  half  the  effect,  nor  was  his 
humor  by  any  means  as  rich  as  was  our  heroine's. 
In  the  "Actress  of  All  Work,"  in  which  she  played  the 
same  night,  the  actress  went  through  six  characters, 
distinguishing  and  marking  each  v/ith  a  precision  that 
would  have  done  credit  to  many  of  the  "stars"  that 
occasionally  twinkle  on  our  stage. 

Miss  Lane's  first  benefit  took  place  Jan.  i6,  1829, 
when  she  acted  Dr.  Pangloss.  As  she  stood  by  the 
orchestra,  and  looking  round  the  pit,  inquired  if  any 
one  there  wanted  the  instructions  of  an  LL.D.  and 
A.S.S.  at  three  hundred  a  year,  the  effect  was  irresist- 
ible, and  the  house  shouted  with  laughter.  She  next 
appeared  at  the  Walnut  Street  Theatre,  Philadelphia, 
where  she  played  a  farewell  engagement  prior  to  her 
departure  for  the  South  and  West.  She  appeared  in 
Cincinnati,  Ohio,  July  8,  1829,  as  Dr.  Pangloss,  then 
returned  to  Philadelphia,  and  opened  Sept.  22,  1829,  at 
the  Arch  Street  Theatre  for  the  first  time.  Next  fol- 
lowed another  Southern  tour,  opening  in  New  Orlean;- 
in  April,  1830,  as  Richard  III. 

Her  stepfather,  Mr.  Kinlock  (to  whom  her  mother 
was  married  shortly  after  her  arrival  in  America),  died 
in  Jamaica,  in  183 1,  he  having  gone  there  with  Mrs. 
Kinlock  for  his  health,     Mrs,   Kinlock  died  in   1855. 


MRS.  JOHN    DREW.  I  29 

After  playing  successfully  through  the  South  and  West, 
Miss  Lane  opened  at  the  Columbia  Street  Theatre, 
Cincinnati,  Ohio,  as  Maria  in  the  comic  opera,  "  Of 
Ao-e  To-morrow."  N.  M.  Ludlow  acted  liaron  Witting- 
hurst.  Then  she  reappeared  at  the  Walnut  Street 
Theatre,  Philadelphia,  as  Albina  Mandeville  in  "The 
Will."  During  the  season  of  1833  she  was  a  member 
of  the  Old  Bowery  Theatre  Company. 

Miss  Lane  was  married,  in  1836,  to  Henry  B.  Hunt, 
an  Englishman  who  came  to  this  country  in  1828  as  a 
tenor  singer.  He  died  in  New  York,  Felx  i  r,  1854. 
His  wife  reappeared  at  the  Old  Bowery  in  1838;  and 
on  Aug.  19,  1839,  ^'^*^  appeared  at  the  Walnut  Street 
Theatre  as  Mrs.  Hunt,  acting  Italia  in  "  Romanzo." 
There  she  remained  for  the  season,  her  salary  being 
twenty  dollars  per  week.  That  was  the  highest  salary 
paid  there  at  that  time. 

When  the  Chestnut  Street  Theatre,  Philadelphia, 
opened  its  season,  Aug.  28,  1841,  she  was  a  meml^er  of 
the  company  that  included  such  artists  as  Peter  R idl- 
ings, principal  comedian,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Edward  N. 
Thayer,  Neafie,  Miss  Hildreth  (afterwards  the  wife  of 
General  B.  F.  Butler),  and  the  Vallee  Sisters  (one  of 
whom  afterwards  married  Ben  De  Bar).  Mrs.  Hunt 
played  leading  juvenile  business.  On  July  9,  1S46,  she 
acted  Constance  in  "The  Love  Chase  "  to  the  Wildrako 
of  E.  L.  Davenport,  at  the  Old  ]?owery  Theatre,  New 
Vork,  for  Mr.  Davenport's  benefit. 

In  1847  once  more  she  went  Westward,  and  appeared 
in  Chicago  at  John  B.  Rice's  new  theatre,  the  site  of 
which  is  now  occupied  by  the  .Sherman  Housi*.  Next 
she  visited  St.  Louis,  Mo.,  opening  for  a  fortnight, 
Sept.  13,  1847,  and  playing  a  wide  range  of  the  drama. 


130        FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF    TO-DAY. 

Her  repertoire  was  Constance  in  "  The  Love  Chase," 
and  Joseph  in  "The  Young  Scamp;"  Ion  in  the  tra- 
gedy of  that  name  ;  Rosalind  in  "  As  You  Like  It,"  and 

Widow   Jirady   in   "The    Irish  Widow;"   The  in 

"The  Devil  in  Paris,"  and  Minnie  in  "Somebody 
Else;"  Donna  Olivia  in  "A  Bold  Stroke  for  a 
Husband,"  and  other  varying  characters. 

In  1848  she  was  engaged  at  the  St.  Charles  Theatre, 
New  Orleans,  under  Ludlow  and  Smith's  management, 
who  were  also  lessees  of  the  Mobile  and  St.  Louis  the- 
atres. She  then  came  TLast,  and  was  married  in  1848 
to  George  Mossop,  an  Irish  singer  and  comedian.  In 
July,  1849,  she  appeared  in  Albany,  N.Y.  Mr.  Mossop 
suddenly  died  there,  Oct.  8,  1849. 

Mrs.  Mossop  was  married  to  John  Drew  in  Albany, 
on  the  27th  of  July,  1850,  while  both  were  members  of 
the  Museum  company.  Mr.  Drew  was,  without  doubt, 
one  of  the  best  all-round  comedians  (particularly  in 
Irish  character)  seen  on  our  stage.  His  wife,  after 
a  brief  starring  tour,  returned  to  Philadelphia,  and  be- 
came a  member  of  the  company  of  the  Chestnut  Street 
Theatre,  when  the  season  of  185 2-1 853  opened.  At 
this  house  she  remained  until  Feb.  21,  1853,  when  she 
went  to  the  Arch  Street  Theatre  in  the  same  city,  then 
under  the  management  of  Thomas  J.  Hemphill.  Mrs. 
Drew  opened  in  "She  Wou'd  and  She  Wou'd  Not." 
On  Aug.  20,  1853,  Mr.  Drew  became  one  of  the  les- 
sees of  this  theatre,  and  so  continued  for  two  seasons. 
In  the  summer  of  1855  husband  and  wife  went  on  a 
starring  tour  through  the  South. 

John  Drew  died  in  Philadelphia,  May  21,  1862.  On 
Aug.  14,  1858,  William  Wheatley  and  John  S.  Clarke 
became   lessees    of    the  Arch,  and    conducted  a  stock 


MRS.  JOHN    DREW.  I3I 

company  that  was  one  of  the  best  ever  organized  in 
America.  It  consisted  of  Mrs.  Drew,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
John  Gilbert,  S.  D.  Johnson,  Emma  Taylor,  Georgiana 
Kinlock,  Mrs.  W.  C.  Gladstone,  John  S.  Clarke,  Wil- 
liam Wheatley,  L.  R.  Shewell,  John  E.  McCullough 
(utility),  and  John  Dolman,  of  late  years  a  prominent 
lawyer  in  Philadelphia.  Mrs.  Drew  assumed  the  man- 
agement of  this  theatre  Aug.  31  1861,  and  thereafter, 
until  her  recent  tours  as  a  special  attraction  in  star 
combinations,  made  her  name  identified  with  the  house. 
She  kept  up  the  stock  system  until  the  opening  of  the 
season  of  1877-1878,  when  she  made  the  theatre  a  com- 
bination house,  playing  travelling  companies. 

When  she  took  the  Arch  the  property  had  depre- 
ciated greatly,  and  was  mortgaged  to  the  amount  of 
twenty  thousand  dollars.  Under  her  management  the 
theatre  greatly  prospered,  the  mortgage  was  quickly 
paid  off,  and  a  surplus  left  for  the  stockholders.  The 
stock,  which  had  a  par  value  of  five  hundred  dollars  a 
share,  under  her  management  reached  a  value  of  seven 
hundred  and  eighty  dollars,  and  could  not  even  then 
be  purchased  excej^t  upon  the  death  of  a  stockholder. 

Mrs.  Drew  is  one  of  the  most  versatile  actresses 
ever  seen  on  the  American  stage.  I  know  of  no  lady 
who  possesses  greater  originality  of  conception,  more 
boldness  of  design,  or  more  intimate  knowledge  of  that 
difficult  art  which  assimilates  acting  to  the  workings 
of  natural  impulse.  She  is  perfectly  "at  home"  in 
tragedy  and  comedy.  As  a  child  and  an  actress  she 
has  been  connected  with  the  stage  for  nearly  three- 
score years.  While  there  are  living  older  actors  and 
actresses,  there  is  not  one  now  before  the  public  wlio 
can  equal  her  in  years. 


132         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

Mrs.  Drew  is  one  of  the  few  instances  of  a  prodij^y 
in  youth  becoming  a  star  in  the  dramatic  constellation. 
Her  greatness  does  not  arise  from  that  of  the  charac- 
ter, but  consists  in  her  manner  of  portraying  it.  In 
form,  stature,  mobility  of  countenance,  and  physique, 
she  is  made  to  give  the  dramatic  world  assurance  of 
an  actress  ;  while  a  lofty  intellect,  a  passionate  devo- 
tion to  her  art,  and  a  highly  cultivated  mind,  have 
stamped  the  seal  of  excellence  upon  her  brow. 

Her  reading  is  faultless  ;  her  voice  clear,  of  great 
compass,  and  musical  in  tone ;  her  enunciation  so  clear 
and  distinct  that  you  lose  no  word  or  syllable  of  the 
text  in  her  most  impassioned  utterance.  She  does  not 
"  mouth  "  or  "saw  the  air,"  as  some  of  our  players  do, 
nor  "tear  a  passion  to  tatters;"  nor  does  she  "  o'er- 
step  the  modesty  of  nature." 

There  is  a  refreshing  originality  about  her  concep- 
tions ;  while  to  a  remarkable  degree  she  possesses  the 
talent  that  makes  a  bodiless  creation  of  the  dramatist's 
mind  a  living  fact,  suffused  and  impregnated  with  nat- 
ural emotions  and  desires.  It  is  in  the  higher  range 
of  dramatic  acting  that  this  lady  shines.  She  invests 
her  characters  with  a  charm  that  had  its  birth  in 
nature.  She  disdains  the  idea  of  playing  to  an  audi- 
ence, and  appealing  to  its  sympathies  through  the  garb 
only  of  the  character  in  which  she  appears.  In  en- 
ergy, in  earnestness  of  purpose,  in  fidelity  to  all  those 
minute  details  of  delineation  which  make  it  perfect, 
she  is  the  queen  of  her  art.  She  has  always  pos- 
sessed a  wonderfully  quick  study  ;  and  I  am  told  by 
old  actors,  who  have  been  members  of  her  stock  com- 
pany at  the  "  Arch,"  that  she  was  never  known  to 
come  to  even  the  first  rehearsal  with  the  book  of  the 


MRS.  JOHN    DREW.  1 33 

play.  Whenever  a  new  piece  was  to  be  producccl,  it 
was  first  read  to  the  company,  then  the  rehearsals 
called.     She  was  always  letter  perfect. 

Mrs.  Drew  was  among  the  first  women  who  under- 
took the  labor  of  management,  and  she  produced  a 
reform  in  the  manner  of  placing  pieces  on  the  stage. 
A  great  many  old  actors  have  told  me  that  she  is  the 
best  stage-director  ever  seen.  As  the  principal  stage 
carpenter  of  the  "Arch"  once  said  to  me  with  pride, 
"  Why,  sir,  there  ain't  a  carpenter  in  the  theatre  whom 
she  can't  sometimes  teach  how  to  do  a  thing."  Her 
glance  was  everywhere.  Her  judgment  and  taste  were 
carried  into  every  department.  Her  administrative 
powers  are  remarkable. 

As  Peg  WofTington,  Mrs.  Drew  has  had  no  superior 
on  the  American  stage.  In  the  scene  where  she  im- 
personates the  character  of  Miss  l^racegirdle,  to  de- 
ceive Colley  Cibber  and  the  rest  of  the  characters,  she 
was  indeed  great.  Not  a  feature  or  a  tone  of  voice 
betrayed  the  cheat.  Her  Mrs.  Oakley,  in  "  The  Jeal- 
ous Wife,"  was  beyond  doubt  the  best  ever  witnessed 
in  this  country.  She  grasped  it  with  an  artist's  pas- 
sion, an  artist's  soul.  She  threw  her  whole  volume  of 
power  and  of  compass  into  the  elements  the  author 
created,  and  thus  she  flashed  and  sparkled  in  tiiem 
like  the  diamond  amid  the  glare  of  a  million  of  lights. 

Her  Hypolita,  in  "She  Wou'd  and  She  Wou'il  Not." 
was  a  most  delightful  piece  of  acting,  —  fresh,  natural, 
sparkling,  and  altogether  charming.  As  Dot,  in  "  The 
Cricket  on  the  Hearth,"  she  was  very  pleasing,  a  per- 
fect picture  of  a  cheerful,  loving  wife,  full  of  senti- 
ment and  affection  of  the  noblest  kind.  The  part  of 
Lydia  Languish  offers  no  opportunity  for  the  dis[)lay 


134         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

of  acting  of  any  sort,  and  in  the  hands  of  the  majority 
of  actresses  degenerates  into  a  weak,  foolish  school 
miss  ;  yet  Mrs.  Drew  threw  a  spirit  into  the  romantic 
nature  of  the  girl,  and  gave  it  an  individuality  far  more 
in  accordance  with  Sheridan's  design  than  the  usual 
rendering  of  the  character. 

Lady  Teazle  and  Mrs.  Malaprop  arc  the  two  great- 
est creations  of  this  lady.  She  is  a  perfect  picture  of 
the  pretty,  spoiled,  but  honest  country  girl ;  and  in 
those  powdered  head-dresses  which  generally  so  disfig- 
ure ladies  on  the  stage,  she  looks  many  years  younger 
than  she  is.  She  plays  Mrs.  Malaprop  gloriously, 
making  her  ludicrous  verbal  blunders  with  the  most 
sublime  unconsciousness,  and  embodying  the  part  as 
she  alone  can  do  it.  Her  playing  of  this  part  in  re- 
cent years,  with  Joseph  Jefferson  and  W.  J.  Florence 
as  stars  in  the  cast,  and  with  herself  as  the  next 
player  in  interest  and  importance,  showed  to  what  a 
remarkable  degree  she  had  retained  the  brilliancy  of 
her  histrionic  powers. 


RICHARD    MANSFIELD     AS    KING    RICHARD    Mi. 


RICHARD  MANSFIELD. 

By  William  Henry  I-kost, 


It  may  be  supposed  that  a  large  part,  if  not  the 
larger  part,  of  the  artistic  achievement  of  the  career  of 
Richard  Mansfield  is  still  in  the  future.  Though  he 
has  passed  through  all  that  could  be  called  his  age  of 
promise,  he  has  still  many  of  the  best  years  of  life 
before  him  for  fulfilment.  All  signs  will  fail  if  an  artis- 
tic temperament,  an  untiring  energy,  and  an  unflagging 
industry  do  not  result  in  a  long  line  of  worthy  and 
memorable  creations.  IMr.  Mansfiekl  has  gained  for 
himself  a  prominent  place  in  the  public  view,  and  he 
has  the  virility  to  hokl  it.  Kvcn  those  who  do  not 
commend  are  obliged  to  see  and  to  note  him.  This  is 
because  all  that  he  does  is  done  with  decision,  author- 
ity, conviction,  and  originality.  When  a  work  of  art 
that  bears  the  stamp  of  such  qualities  as  these  is  pre- 
sented to  the  consideration  of  thoughtful  judges,  they 
must  approve  or  dis:i])pr<n-e  it  unhesitatinglv.  They 
cannot  be  indifferent.  The  artist  commands  thiir 
attention. 

Mr.  Mansfield's  life  began  in  Heligoland,  a  spot 
which,  though  small,  has  drawn  a  good  deal  of  atten- 
tion to  itself  from  time  to  time.  His  mother  was  the 
prima  donna  Mme.    Ruder.sdorf.      A    large  part    of   ids 

135 


136         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

boyhood  and  youth  was  spent  in  travel  in  England, 
Germany,  Switzerland,  and  France.  A  migratory  life, 
if  one  does  not  get  too  much  of  it,  is  an  excellent  means 
of  education.  An  artistic  nature  will  usually  assert 
itself  in  some  way  or  other  under  almost  any  circum- 
stances ;  but  familiarity  with  such  scenes  as  tiiose  of 
the  Alps,  the  Tyrol,  and  the  Rhine  can  hardly  fail  to 
confirm,  to  develop,  and  to  strengthen  it. 

The  boy  did  not  lack  training  of  a  more  usual  sort. 
He  went  to  school  in  Germany,  and  also  in  England. 
It  was  at  Derby  that  he  spent  the  schooldays  to  which 
he  now  looks  back  as  days  of  healthful  pleasure  and 
ennobling  influence.  The  master  of  the  school  was  the 
late  Rev.  Walter  Clark.  He  made  such  an  impression 
on  young  Mansfield  as  can  never  be  lost,  and  is  surely 
not  likely  to  be  forgotten.  The  last  time  that  Mr. 
Mansfield  visited  the  school  was  while  he  was  in  luig- 
land  with  his  company  a  few  years  ago.  The  school 
needed  a  racket-court  ;  and  the  actor  loyally  gave  two 
performances,  in  the  afternoon  and  evening  of  the 
same  day,  to  raise  the  necessary  funds.  The  perform- 
ances, one  of  "  Prince  Karl  "  and  one  of  "  Dr.  Jekyll 
and  Mr.  Hyde,"  were  enthusiastically  received,  espe- 
cially by  the  schoolboys,  and  the  sum  was  raised. 

While  Mansfield  was  at  Derby  a  prophet  visited  the 
school.  He  was  Dr.  Sejwyn,  Bishop  of  Lichfield.  It 
was  "speech  day  ;"  and  the  boys  acted  "The  Merchant 
of  Venice,"  Mansfield  playing  Shylock.  After  the  play 
was  over  the  bishop  shook  the  boy's  hand,  and  said, 
"  Heaven  forbid  that  I  should  encourage  vou  to  become 
an  actor;  but  should  you,  if  I  mistake  not,  you  will  be 
a  great  one." 

After  this   Mansfield   spent   some  time   in  study  at 


RICHARD    MANSFIELD.  1 37 

South  Kensington,  in  deference  to  the  desire  of  his 
mother,  who  wished  that  he  should  become  an  artist, 
that  is,  a  painter.  The  time  here  was  short,  and  at  the 
end  of  it  he  came  to  America.  Here  a  mercantile  life 
was  resolved  upon  ;  and  he  entered  the  house  of  Jordan 
&  Marsh,  in  Boston,  to  learn  their  business.  The 
most  that  he  gained  by  this  venture  was  the  lasting 
friendship  of  Eben  D.  Jordan,  which  often  after  that 
proved  helpful  and  sustaining.  But  it  was  not  natural 
that  a  career  such  as  was  now  proposed  should  long 
seem  attractive  to  a  young  man  whose  instincts  and 
tastes  were  all  artistic.  He  found  that  he  could  sell 
his  pictures,  and  he  soon  returned  to  the  making  of 
them,  liut  he  had  not  yet  found  his  place,  and  he  was 
not  yet  at  ease. 

He  wont  to  England  again  to  study  and  to  paint  ; 
and  now  Fortune  seemed  to  stand  squarely  in  his  path, 
and  to  set  her  face  against  him,  though  it  was,  as  it 
proved,  only  to  turn  him  away  from  this  mistaken  path 
into  one  along  which,  as  he  walked,  he  might  pluck 
the  leaves  for  greener  garlands.  Just  at  this  time  he 
walked  the  streets  of  London.  No  bays  were  growing 
there ;  and  the  streets  were  very  hard  and  the  stones  of 
them  very  cold,  while  the  young  man's  shoes  were  not 
always  very  warm,  to  say  notiiing  of  his  gloves.  There 
was  nothing  gratifying  about. this  exi^erience.  It  has 
its  pictures(|ue  and  romantic  side,  when  the  effect  is 
aided  by  distance  of  time  or  spine;  but  wliile  one  is 
in  the  midst  of  it  this  side  is  not  conspicuous.  He 
knew  what  cold  meant,  and  he  would  have  been  glad 
to  get  more  to  cat.  That  Mansfield  was  able  after- 
wards to  sec  the  poetical  side  of  such  hardshij)  every- 
one who  has  seen  his  play  "Monsieur"  knows.     Perhaps 


138         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

he  may  have  seen  it  then ;  but  it  must  have  seemed  a 
grim  sort  of  poetry,  especially  when  he  finally  had  an 
engagement  to  sing,  and  was  actually  unable  to  keep 
it  because  of  weakness  and  suffering.  lukicational  no 
doubt  it  all  was ;  a  stern  teacher  is  ICxpcrience. 

To  one  in  this  position  it  may  easily  be  imagined 
what  an  engagement  at  £'^  a  week  meant.  It  is 
not  a  large  sum  ;  but  if  it  comes  regularly  and  is 
judiciously  used,  it  will  buy  some  sort  of  food,  clothing, 
and  shelter,  as  many  a  rich  and  honored  merchant  and 
statesman  and  scholar  and  artist  knows.  It  came  to 
Mansfield  from  D'Oyly  Carte  ;  and  in  return  for  it  the 
young  man  travelled  about  with  Mr.  Carte's  provincial 
opera  company,  and  sang  J.  Wellington  Wells,  in  "The 
Sorcerer,"  and  other  like  parts.  After  a  time,  how- 
ever, Mansfield  and  D'Oyly  Carte  disagreed.  Mans- 
field thought  he  ought  to  have  ;^3  los. ;  Mr.  Carte 
thought  not,  and  they  parted. 

Engagements  and  engagements  followed,  with  vary- 
ing fortune,  but  always  with  gains  of  experience  ;  and 
seven  years  after  he  had  left  America,  Mansfield  was 
back  again,  and  his  first  appearance  was  in  "  Les  Man- 
teaux  Noirs,"  at  the  Standard  Theatre,  New  York. 
After  he  had  sung  in  an  opera  or  two  here,  he  joined 
the  company  at  the  Union  Square  Theatre  ;  and  a  small 
part  in  "A  Parisian  Romance"  was  assigned  to  him. 
The  story  of  this  ])lay  has  often  been  told.  Mr.  Mans- 
field was  "lent"  to  a  company  singing  "lolanthe"  in 
Baltimore,  and  played  the  part  of  the  Lord  Chancellor 
for  a  few  nights,  and  then,  being  summoned  by  a  de- 
spatch from  Mr.  Palmer,  returned  to  New  York  with 
a  sprained  ankle,  caused  by  a  slip  in  dancing.  Then 
Mr.    Stoddart    refused    to    play   the    Baron    Chevrial. 


RICHARD    MANSFIELD.  1 39 

Mansfield  took  the  part ;  it  made  a  tremendous  hit,  and 
the  actor  at  last  was  recognized. 

Mansfield's  Baron  Chevrial  was  a  successful  perform- 
ance and  a  marvellous  performance,  and  it  still  is  so 
at  the  time  this  sketch  is  written.  Beyond  that  per- 
haps the  less  said  about  it  the  better.  Mansfield  went 
back  to  comic  opera  again,  and  appeared  as  Koko  in 
John  Stetson's  "Mikado  "  company.  While  he  was  in 
Boston  with  this  company  he  made  an  arrangement 
with  R.  M.  Field  to  appear  at  the  Boston  Museum. 
He  began  his  engagement  there  with  "  A  Parisian 
Romance,"  and  a  week  later  played  "  Prince  Karl." 
This  was  another  unqualified  success.  lieyond  the 
fact  that  Baron  Chevrial  and  Prince  Karl  were  both 
well  played,  they  were  about  as  different  as  two  parts 
could  be.  The  new  play  was  a  slight  affair;  and  its 
attractiveness  depended,  as  has  been  the  case  more 
than  once  with  Mr.  Mansfield's  plays,  on  the  perform- 
ance of  the  principal  actor.  Mr.  Mansfield  has  made 
other  powerful  creations,  but  he  has  never  acted  a 
more  charming  character  than  Prince  Karl.  The  poor 
prince  had  many  sorrows  ;  everybody  sympathized  with 
them,  and  yet  everybody  laughed  at  them.  The  im- 
personation overflowed  with  true  humor.  The  pa- 
tience, the  courage,  and  the  cheerful  self-sacrifice  of 
the  young  German  were  jiathetic  ;  yet  they  wore  every 
moment  so  amusing  that  no  one  would  have  him  suffer 
one  grief  or  one  disappointment  less.  Tlie  j)rince's 
modest  bearing  and  warm-hearted  affection  were  enough 
to  make  everybody  his  friend,  while  the  grace  ami  the 
repose  with  which  the  part  was  acted  were  no  less  than 
delightful. 

The  ne.xt  marked  achievement  was  "  Dr.  Jekyll  and 


140        FAMOUS   AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

Mr.  Hyde,"  which  was  also  played  in  Boston.  A  play 
full  of  horrors  this  was,  of  course;  but  what  poetical 
horrors  !  or,  rather,  what  poetry  was  interspersed  with 
the  horrors !  There  were  storms  of  action  ;  but  how 
fine  were  the  calms,  and  how  mournfully  tender  and 
prophetic  were  the  moments  when  the  storm  was  gath- 
ering !  Once  Jekyll  takes  the  hand  of  Agnes,  and  the 
two  stroll  away  together  talking  about  the  stars  above 
their  heads.  They  are  a  picture  of  peaceful  happiness. 
A  few  moments  later  the  malignantly  hideous  face  of 
Hyde  is  seen  at  the  window.  Who  can  see  this  con- 
trast, knowing  that  the  two  men  are  one,  and  not  think 
of  the  difference  between  his  own  good  and  evil  na- 
tures, and  feel  a  lesson  that  is  taught  without  precept 
or  platitude  ?  The  plan  is  reversed  when  Hyde  leaves 
Mr.  Utterson  in  the  dark  street  to  knock  at  the  door 
through  which  he  has  disappeared  and  demand  admis- 
sion, till  it  is  opened,  and  there  stands  Dr.  Jekyll,  erect 
and  tranquil,  holding  a  light  above  his  head.  A  volume 
might  be  written  on  the  ethics  of  this  play,  but  it 
would  be  superfluous.  The  play  itself  still  lasts,  and  its 
mission  is  not  done. 

"  Prince  Karl "  had  a  long  run  at  the  Madison 
Square  Theatre,  New  York,  in  the  summer  of  1886. 
Mr.  Mansfield  returned  to  the  same  theatre  early  the 
next  summer,  and  repeated  the  same  play.  It  ran  for 
several  weeks  ;  and  then  Mr.  Mansfield  produced  his 
own  i^lay,  "  Monsieur."  It  was  a  slight  and  unsubstan- 
tial fabric,  but  of  delicate  te.xture.  The  story  was  sim- 
ple and  touching,  the  acting  of  the  leading  part  was 
graceful  and  finished,  as  usual,  and  the  whole  was  dis- 
tinctly pleasing.  After  a  few  weeks  more  "  Dr.  Jekyll 
and  Mr.  Hyde  "  was  played  for  the  first  time  in  New 


RICHARD    MANSFIELD.  I4I 

York.  It  again  met  with  great  success,  and  brought 
the  engagement  to  a  happy  close. 

An  invitation  from  Henry  Irving  to  Mr.  Mansfield 
to  occupy  liis  theatre  in  London  for  some  months  pre- 
vented a  summer  engagement  in  New  York  in  1888. 
He  began  his  season  at  the  Lyceum  Theatre,  late  in 
the  summer,  with  "  Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde."  Later 
he  gave  "  A  Parisian  Romance "  and  "  Prince  Karl." 
All  of  these  created  no  small  comment ;  and  the  fero- 
cious wickedness  of  Mr.  Hyde  gained  more  attention 
than  would  perhaps  have  been  the  natural  share,  from 
the  fact  that  two  or  three  of  the  Whitechapel  mur- 
ders were  committed  in  Mr.  Mansfield's  early  days  at 
the  Lyceum.  To  make  the  list  of  plays  complete, 
"Lesbia"  should  be  added  to  it.  This  was  a  classical 
one-act  piece,  in  which  Miss  Beatrice  Cameron  played 
the  leading  part,  and  Mansfield  did  not  appear. 

Mr.  Mansfield's  great  production  of  "  King  Richard 
HI."  took  place  at  the  Globe  Theatre,  London.  It  is 
seldom  that  a  play  of  Shakespeare,  or  any  one  else,  is 
presented  with  such  care,  such  elaborateness,  and  such 
cost.  Libraries  and  picture  galleries  and  museums 
were  searched  for  authority  for  the  accurate  costumes 
and  arms  and  scenes.  The  result  was  a  magnificent 
performance  of  the  play  as  a  whole,  rich  in  thrilling 
action  and  pictures,  and  full  of  tiie  feeling  and  sp'\rh 
of  the  time.  The  version  of  the  play  was  different 
from  any  that  had  before  been  used  on  the  stage.  It 
retained  something  from  the  third  part  of  "  King 
Henry  VI.,"  and  a  little  from  Colley  Cii)ber,  but  not 
so  much  as  is  common.  In  his  own  part  Mr.  Mans- 
field escaped  from  tradition  by  appearing  as  a  young 
man  in  the  first  scene,  and  older  as  the  play  went  on. 


142        FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO— DAY. 

This  great  production  was  the  leading  subject  of 
discussion  among  people  interested  in  the  drama  in 
America  for  months  before  it  was  seen  here.  Mr. 
Mansfield  returned,  and  played  "  Richard  III."  in  ]k)s- 
ton  late  in  the  autumn  of  1889,  and  gave  it  for  the 
first  time  in  New  York  at  Palmer's  Theatre,  on  Dec. 
16.  It  was  written  about,  talked  about,  lauded,  and 
censured,  as  it  had  been  in  London  ;  but  financially 
it  was  not  a  success.  People  came  to  see  it  in  good 
numbers;  and  there  never  was,  and  never  could  be,  any 
lack  of  interest  on  the  part  of  tlie  audiences.  But 
the  production  was  so  costly  that  nothing  less  than 
crowded  houses  could  support  it,  and  these  it  tlid  not 
have.  After  sometiiing  over  a  month,  it  was  taken 
from  the  stage,  and  some  of  Mr.  Mansfield's  former 
successes  were  substituted. 

The  next  summer  Mr.  Mansfield  came  to  the  Madi- 
son Square  Theatre,  according  to  his  old  custom,  and, 
after  a  few  weeks  of  some  of  his  older  plays,  produced 
"  Beau  Brummel."  He  was  always  successful  at  this 
theatre,  and  now  more  than  ever.  He  never  had  a 
part  that  fitted  him  better,  and  his  acting  of  it  was 
a  matter  of  widespread  fame  on  the  very  day  after  the 
first  performance.  For  the  whole  summer  and  well 
into  the  autumn  "  Beau  Brummel  "  crowded  the  house, 
and  it  then  renewed  its  popularity  in  every  city  that 
the  actor  visited  on  his  long  winter  tour. 

The  ne.xt  May  saw  Mansfield  again  in  New  York 
for  a  summer  season,  this  time  at  the  Garden  Theatre, 
where  he  had  already  played  a  short  engagement  in 
the  middle  of  the  winter.  He  soon  produced  "  Don 
Juan,"  a  play  written  by  himself.  The  view  which  he 
took  of  his  hero's  character  was  different  from  the  tra- 


RICHARD    MANSFIELD.  1 43 

ditional  one ;  and  he  represented  him  as  a  happy  and 
thoughtless  boy,  misguided  by  his  parents,  with  the 
best  intentions,  and  falling  into  error  through  mere 
heedlessness  of  any  need  of  keeping  out  of  it.  The 
play  was  not  successful ;  and  after  a  few  weeks  Mr. 
Mansfield  returned  to  the  standards  of  his  repertory, 
"Prince  Karl,"  "Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde,"  "Beau 
Brummel,"  and  "  A  Parisian  Romance,"  still  continu- 
ing "Don  Juan  "  for  a  few  performances  each  week. 
In  September,  three  weeks  before  the  engagement 
ended,  "Nero,"  a  tragedy  by  T.  Russell  Sullivan,  was 
acted  for  the  first  time.  It  was  produced  with  all  the 
artistic  beauty  and  exactness  that  had  made  "Richard 
III."  so  memorable.  The  central  character  was  an- 
other of  Mr.  Mansfield's  studies  of  various  types  of 
wickedness.  In  its  essential  qualities  it  was  far  re- 
moved from  all  of  them,  and  it  was  as  deeply  consid- 
ered and  truthfully  interpreted  as  any. 

"  Nero  "  was  only  moderately  successful  as  compared 
with  the  most  popular  of  Mr.  Mansfield's  productions. 
In  February,  1892,  also  at  the  Garden  Theatre,  he  pro- 
duced "Ten  Thousand  a  Year;"  and  it  was  another 
failure.  The  following  Sei)tember  he  played  a  short 
engagement  at  Daly's  Theatre,  the  imjiortant  feature 
of  which  was  the  production  of  "  The  Scarlet  Letter." 
Here,  in  the  Rev.  Arthur  Dimmesdale,  he  found  still 
a  new  variety  of  sinner  ;  and  he  gave  his  usual  care  and 
skill  to  the  interpretation  of  it.  With  all  that  could  be 
done  for  the  play  it  was  a  gloomy  affair,  and  nobody 
thought  that  it  could  possibly  succeed.  To  the  general 
a.stonishment,  however,  it  did  succeed  ;  and  it  remained 
poj)ular  in  New  York  and  elsewhere  for  a  long  time. 

In  October,  1893,  Mr.  Mansfield  made  a  fine  revival 


144         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAV. 

of  "The  Merchant  of  Venice  "  at  Herrmann's  Theatre, 
in  New  York,  and  in  September,  1894,  he  opened  the 
reconstructed  Herald  Square  Theatre,  with  Bernard 
Shaw's  "  Arms  and  the  Man."  He  closed  his  engage- 
ment at  this  house  with  what  he  called  a  public  dress 
rehearsal  of  "  Napoleon  Bonaparte."  This  was  a  strange 
sort  of  entertainment,  more  resembling  a  series  of  Sun- 
day-school tableaux  than  a  play  ;  but  again,  to  the 
general  surprise,  Mr.  Mansfield  found  it  of  use  on  his 
tour. 

It  happened  in  the  spring  of  1895  that  Edward  Har- 
rigan,  who  had  been  suffering  financial  losses  at  his 
theatre  in  Thirty-fifth  Street,  New  York,  had  a  severe 
sickness,  and  felt  obliged  to  give  up  his  theatre  alto- 
gether. Mr.  Mansfield,  who  had  long  wanted  a  theatre 
in  New  York,  took  it  off  his  hands,  receiving  a  lease  of 
it  for  ten  years.  He  refitted,  refurnished,  and  redec- 
orated it  thoroughly,  making  of  it  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  and  comfortable  theatres  in  the  city,  and 
named  it  the  Garrick  Theatre.  It  was  his  intention  to 
use  it  for  a  permanent  company,  of  which  he  was,  of 
course,  to  be  the  head,  and  to  spend  a  large  part  of  each 
season  in  New  York.  He  opened  the  house  in  April, 
with  "  Arms  and  the  Man."  A  few  weeks  later  he 
produced  "The  King  of  Peru,"  which  was  a  failure. 

Elaborate  preparations  were  begun  for  the  next  sea- 
son ;  but  a  short  time  before  it  was  to  open,  Mr.  Mans- 
field was  taken  dangerously  sick.  It  was  months  before 
he  was  able  to  act  again  ;  all  his  plans  were  overturned, 
and  he  was  finally  obliged  to  give  up  the  management 
of  the  theatre.  He  did  appear  in  it  for  a  short  time, 
in  December,  the  only  new  play  in  which  he  was  seen 
being  **The  Story  of  Rodion,  the  Student."     In  1896 


RICHARD    MANSFIELD.  1 45 

he  completed  arrangements  for  returning  once  more  to 
acting  "  on  the  road." 

On  Sept.  15,  1892,  Mr.  Mansfield  married  Miss 
Beatrice  Cameron  (Susan  Hcgeman),  who  had  been 
the  leading  woman  of  his  company  for  several  years. 
Miss  Cameron  made  her  beginning  as  an  actress  in  an 
amateur  performance  of  "  The  Midnight  Marriage," 
with  Mrs.  James  Brown  Potter.  She  afterwards  played 
with  Robert  Mantell  in  "Called  Back."  The  following 
is  a  complete,  or  nearly  complete,  list  of  the  parts  which 
she  has  played  in  Mr.  Mansfield's  company  :  Florence, 
in  "  Prince  Karl ;  "  Alice,  in  "  Monsieur  ;  "  Agnes 
Carew,  in  "Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde  ;  "  Lucia,  in  "Don 
Juan  ;  "  Acte,  in  "  Nero  ;  "  Tessy  Tagrag,  in  "  Ten 
Thousand  a  Year  ; "  Hester  Prynne,  in  "  The  Scarlet 
Letter  ;  "  Mariana  Vincent,  in  "  ]k\iu  Brummel  ;  " 
Lady  Anne,  in  "  King  Richard  HI.  ; "  Lesbia,  in  "  Les- 
bia;"  Nora,  in  "A  Doll's  House  ;"  Marcelle  and  the 
ballet-dancer,  in  "  A  Parisian  Romance ; "  Portia,  in 
"The  Merchant  of  Venice;"  Raina,  in  "Arms  and  the 
Man;"  Marie  Louise,  in  "Napoleon  Bonaparte;" 
Clara  Desmond,  in  "  The  King  of  Peru  ;  "  and  Souia, 
in  "  The  Story  of  Rodion,  the  Student." 


ADA    REHAN. 

By  Edward  A.  Ditmmar. 


Ada  Rehan,  who  for  some  fifteen  years  or  more  has 
been  in  the  front  rank  of  American  actresses,  and  since 
1884  has  won  for  herself  an  equally  prominent  position 
on  the  London  stage,  —  for  she  is  now  as  well-known 
to  the  theatre-goers  of  the  l^ritish  capital  as  to  those 
of  New  York,  —  was  not  born  in  the  purple  ;  and  the 
honor  she  has  achieved  in  her  art  came  to  her  only 
after  years  of  hard  work.  She  did  not  find  her  path 
in  the  beginning  strewn  with  roses ;  she  has  fairly 
earned  all  her  triumphs. 

Indeed,  for  an  actress  of  this  era,  her  term  of  appren- 
ticeship was  unusually  long  and  arduous.  Miss  Re- 
han studied  faithfully,  and  learned  all  that  practice 
and  experience  could  teach.  Her  development  was 
not  extraordinarily  rapid  ;  but  when  the  time  came 
she  was  found  capable  of  taking  a  high  place,  and 
maintaining  it  with  unswerving  fidelity  to  artistic 
principle  and  steadily  increasing  power. 

She  was  like  no  other  actress  of  her  time  ;  though 
her  portrayals  of  the  heroines  of  poetic  comedy  and 
some  of  the  old  comedies  of  manners  frequently  recall 
to  the  minds  of  students  of  the  stage  the  accounts  of 
famous  actresses  of  the  past,  written  by  the  critics  and 

146 


ADA    REHAN. 


ADA    REHAN.  I 47 

poets  and  rhapsodists  of  their  times.  Miss  Rehan  is  at 
once  the  Margaret  Woffington  and  the  Dora  Jordan  of 
this  period ;  many  of  the  parts  they  played  are  in  her 
repertory  ;  she  has  the  buoyant  grace,  the  archness  of 
expression,  the  eloquence,  the  humor,  and  the  radiant 
personal  charm  associated  in  the  pages  of  theatrical 
history  with  those  famous  actresses.  Her  range  is  as 
broad  as  Woffington's,  —  who,  to  be  sure,  played  in 
tragedy,  when  tragedy  was  in  its  prime,  —  and  broader 
than  Jordan's. 

Ada  Rehan  was  born  in  Limerick,  Ireland,  April  22, 
i860.  The  family  name  was  Crchan.  When  Ada  was 
five  years  old  her  parents  came  to  the  United  States, 
and  made  their  home  in  ]^rooklyn,  N.Y.,  where  she 
passed  most  of  her  childhood  and  received  her  school- 
ing. Both  of  her  elder  sisters  took  to  the  stage,  adopt- 
ing the  name  of  O'Neill,  an  honored  one  in  theatrical 
history.  Kate  became  the  wife  of  Oliver  Doud  Byron, 
an  actor  of  repute,  while  Harriet  married  R.  Fulton 
Russell.  At  the  age  of  fifteen  years,  Ada,  who  hail 
previously  shown  no  theatrical  ambition  and  no  partic- 
ular dramatic  aptitude,  acted  a  small  part  in  the  play 
called  "  Across  the  Continent,"  in  which  Mr.  Byron 
was  the  principal  performer,  at  Newark,  N.J.  This 
determined  her  career.  That  autumn  she  was  briefly 
associated  with  Mr.  Byron's  company  ;  and  then,  for 
two  seasons,  she  was  engaged  at  the  Arch  Street 
Theatre,  Philadelphia,  under  the  management  of  Mrs. 
John  Drew.  Here  she  had  valuable  training,  and 
acted  a  variety  of  small  parts. 

Her  novitiate  on  the  stage  was  continued  at  Macau- 
ley's  Theatre,  Louisville.  Ky.,  antl  thcreafti-r  as  a  nu-ni- 
ber  of  John  W.  Albaugh's  company  in  Albany,  N.V., 


148 


FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 


and  Baltimore,  Md.  In  these  positions  she  was  thrown 
into  association  with  the  prominent  star  actors  of  that 
period.  She  appeared  in  tragedy,  comedy,  farce,  ope- 
retta, and  melodrama ;  she  began  with  minor  parts,  and 
rose  to  be  "juvenile  lead."  She  acquired  experience, 
the  capacity  to  study,  self-posssession,  and  a  knowledge 
of  elocution,  if  not  a  finished  style  ;  one  thing  is  cer- 
tain, she  acquired  no  offensive  mannerisms,  as  many 
young  actors  do  in  this  sort  of  work.  She  had  very 
little  to  unlearn  when  she  started  fairly  upon  her 
career.  A  list  of  the  parts  played  by  Miss  Rehan  in 
these  early  days  is  worth  preserving.  This  list  is  taken 
from  one  prepared  by  Mr.  William  Winter  :  — 


Adelaide  Bonds,  "  Our  Oddities." 

Acnes  Constant,  "  Across  the  Con- 
tinent." 

Alicia  Auuley,  "Lady  Audley's  .Se- 
cret." 

Anne  Leigh,  "Enoch  Arden." 

Aouda,  "  Around  the  World  in  Eighty 
Days." 

Armine,  "  Victor  of  Rh6." 

Arlina,  "  Hero." 

Barbara  Benson, "Poor and  Proud." 

Barbara  Hare,  "  East  Lynne.' 

BiANCA,  "  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew." 

Blanche  de  Nevers,  "The  Duke's 
Motto." 

Bunker  Hill,  "The  Danites." 

Celia,  "  As  You  Like  It." 

Clara  (her  first  part  on  the  stage), 
"  Across  the  Continent." 

Clara  Wakefield,  "  Luke,  the  La- 
borer." 

Cora  Darlinc.ton,  "The  False 
Light." 

Cordelia,  "  King  Lear." 

Countess,  "The  f^tranger." 

Desdemona,  "  Othello." 


Diana  Castro,  "  Two  Men  of  Sandy 
Bar." 

Diane  de  Lascour,  "  The  Sea  of 
Ice." 

Druda,  "The  Ice  Witch." 

Elizabeth,  "The  Golden  Farmer." 

Eloise  Woodruek,  "Becky  Mi.\." 

Emma  Torrens;  "Serious  Family." 

Esther  Eccles,  "Caste." 

Ethel  Grain(;er,  "  Married  in 
Haste." 

Eva  Hillincjton,"  Lone  Man  of  the 
Ocean." 

Fanny  Elkton,  "  Zip." 

FiDELE  La  Crosse,  "  Heroine  in 
Rags." 

Florida  Vaughan,  "  Bonnie  Kate." 

Georgette,  "  Fernande." 

Georgiana  Rekd,  "Jane  Eyre." 

Gertrude,  "  Ben  McCullough." 

Grace  Harkaway,  "  London  .Assu- 
rance." 

Grace  Roseberry,  "The  New  Mag- 
dalen." 

Harriet,  "The  Jealous  Wife." 

Hebe,  "  Pinafore." 


ADA    REHAN. 


149 


IssopEL,  "  Tiote." 

Julia  Latimer,  "  The  Flying  Scud." 
Lady  Anne,  "  Kichard  IIL" 
Lauy  Jane, "Crown  of  'J"horns.'' 
Lady  Florence,  "  Kosedale."' 
Lady  Sarah,  "Queen  Elizabeth." 
Lai>y  Valeria,"  All  that  Glitters." 
Laura   de    Beaukei-aire,  "White 

Lies." 
Laura    Cortlandt,    "  Under    the 

Gaslight." 
I.AiRA  Hawkins,  "The  Gilded  Age." 
Laura  LiviNf;sToN,  "  Escape<l  from 

.Sing  Sing." 
Little  Em'lv,  "  David  Copperfield." 
Louise,  "  Cartouche."    - 
Louise,  "  Lnder  the  Snow." 
Louise,  "  Frou-Fn>u." 
LiiulSE  Goodwin,  "  Across  the  Con- 
tinent." 
LuRLiNE,  "  Naiad  Queen." 
Madelon,  "  Carjienter  of  Kouen." 
Madelon,  "  Fanchon." 
Mar<;uerite    Lako<jue.  "Romance 

of  a  l*(M>r  Voung  Man." 
Marie,  "  Marble  lle.irt." 
.Marie  de  Comines,  "Louis  XL" 
Marie  he  Man<  ini,"  Koyal  Youth." 
Mary  Clark,  "Charter  Oak." 


Mary  Netley,  "Ours." 

NL\RY   Wat.son,  "  Dick  Turpin  and 

'J"om  King." 
Matmilde  de  Latour,  "  Miss  Mul- 

ton." 
Maid,  "  Musette." 
MoRGiANA,  "  Forty  Thieves." 
Mrs.   Castlemaine,   "The    flolden 

Calf." 
Naomi  Ti<;iie,  "School." 
Niciiette,  "Caniille." 
Olivia,  "  Twelfth  Night." 
OniKLiA,  "  Hamlet." 
Pauline,  "  Lady  of  Lyons." 
Pearl     Cortlandi,     ••  I'nder     the 

Gaslight." 
PiiiLiNA,  "  Mignon." 
Prinle  oe  Walks,  "  Kichard  III." 
Pkince.ss  Ida,  "  Lorle." 
Queen  Elizabeth,  "  Mary  Stuart." 
Queen  ok  France.  "  Henry  V." 
KosE,  "  Little  Barefoot." 
Rose  Fallon,  "  Mash  of  I.iglitning." 
Stella,  "  Enchantress." 
Stella,  "  Little  Detective." 
Syuil  Hawker,  "  Brxss. ' 
Irsula.  "  Much  .\do." 
\'|R<;INI.\,  "  N'irginius  " 
WiNlERi  D  WoiiD,  "Jack  Sh<pp.ird." 


In  the  spriiii;  of  i<S79  Miss  Rchaii  was,  for  a  lime, 
in  the  conii)any  of  I'^inny  Davenport  ;  and  in  the  play 
called  "  I'ique  "  she  acted  the  small  part  of  Mary  Stan- 
dish  for  a  week  at  the  Grand  Opera  House,  New  ^'ork. 
As  a  chiltl  she  had  apjx'ared  briefly  at  Wood's  Museum, 
the  site  of  which  is  now  occupied  by  Daly's  Theatre; 
but  this  was  practically  her  first  appearance  in  New 
\'ork.  Auf^ustin  Daly,  who  for  nearly  two  years  had 
been  out  of  the  field  of  theatrical  manaj;ement  in  New 
York,  returned  fnun  abroad  that  sprini;  and  produci-d  at 
the  Olympic  Theatre  on  liroadway  an  Kn<;lish  version 


150        FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

of  Zola's  "L'Assommoir."  In  this  play  Miss  Rehan 
appeared  as  Big  Clemence,  a  role  of  small  importance. 
So  well  did  she  play  this  part  that  she  was  shortly 
afterward  advanced  to  the  more  important  one  of  Vir- 
ginie.  The  next  autumn  she  was  engaged  for  the 
company  of  Daly's  Theatre  ;  and  she  appeared  the 
opening  night,  Sept.  17,  as  Nelly  Beers  in  a  little 
comedy  called  "  Love's  Young  Dream,"  the  first  piece 
on  the  programme.  The  "  Pinafore "  craze  was  then 
uppermost  in  the  minds  of  all  theatrical  managers. 
The  musical  play  had  an  important  place  in  the  reper- 
tory of  Daly's  Theatre  the  first  two  seasons.  In  this 
Miss  Rehan  filled  a  subordinate  place,  but  her  extraor- 
dinary talent  in  comedy  was  soon  manifested. 

She  had  a  chance  early  in  the  first  season  in  the 
grateful  and  vivacious  part  of  Lu  Ten  Eyck  in  "  Di- 
vorce ;  "  she  played  zealously  the  subordinate  role  of 
Isabelle  in  "Wives,"  an  adaptation  from  Moliere  by 
Bronson  Howard  ;  she  had  a  good  part,  though  not 
the  principal  one,  in  Mr.  Daly's  own  version  of  Von 
Moser's  "  Haroun  al  Raschid  ;  "  and  finally,  toward  the 
close  of  the  season,  she  made  a  positively  brilliant  hit 
as  Cherry  Monogram  in  a  comedy  from  the  German 
called  "The  Way  We  Live."  This  was,  indeed,  the 
first  revelation  of  her  uncommon  ability  to  deftly  and 
daintily  mingle  humor  and  sentiment  while  preserving 
the  simulation  of  high  breeding  and  buoyant  spirits. 
From  this  time  on  her  progress  in  her  art  and  her 
growth  in  the  affection  and  esteem  of  her  public  were 
rapid.  In  the  musical  pieces  she  bore  herself  grace- 
fully and  modestly  as  Donna  Antonina  ("The  Royal 
Middy"),  Psyche  ("Cinderella  at  School"),  and  Mut- 
tra  ("  Xanina").     In  a  single  afternoon  performance  of 


ADA    RERAN.  I5I 

W.  S.  Gilbert's  "  Charity,"  she  evinced  remarkable 
power  as  the  forlorn  Ruth  Tredgett,  a  type  of  woman- 
hood degraded,  but  not  depraved.  There  was  in  this 
characterization,  for  the  few  who  had  the  privilege 
of  seeing  it,  a  promise  since  amply  fulfilled  in  Miss 
Rehan's  forceful  and  pathetic  acting  in  "  Odette," 
"  The  Prayer,"  and  certain  scenes  of  "  The  Hunch- 
back ;  "  but  her  chief  triumphs  have  been  in  pure  com- 
edy, and  her  range  has  comprehended  the  lightest  and 
merriest  farce  as  well  as  the  highest  creations  of  poetic 
comedy. 

What  playgoer  of  the  eighties  will  ever  forget  that 
long  list  of  joyous  heroines  in  modern  comedy  from  the 
German,  beginning  with  Selina  in  "  Needles  and  Pins," 
and  including  Phronie  in  "  Dollars  and  Sense,"  Thisbe 
in  "Quits,"  Telka  in  "  Tlic  Passing  Regiment,"  Tony 
in  "Red  Letter  Nights,"  Barbee  in  "Our  English 
PViend,"  Aphra  in  "  The  Wooden  Sjjoon,"  Floss  in 
"Seven-twenty-eight,"  Nisbe  in  "A  Night  Off,"  Nancy 
Brasher  in  "Nancy  and  Company,"  and  P2tna  in  "The 
Great  Unknown  "  ?  In  modern  comedy  of  a  higher 
sort,  who  can  forget  the  tiignity  and  charm  of  her  por- 
trayals of  Annis  Austin  in  "  Love  on  Crutches,"  Val 
Osprey  in  "The  Railroad  of  Love,"  Doris  in  "An 
International  Match,"  Dina  in  "  A  Priceless  Paragon," 
Vera  in  "  Tlie  Last  Word,"  anil  Mrs.  Jassamine  in  "A 
Test  Case  "  ? 

As  the  two  radiant  widows,  Mrs.  Osprey  and  the 
Baroness  Vera,  indeed,  the  breadth  of  Miss  Reiian's 
acting,  the  depth  of  sentiment,  and  the  variety  of  ex- 
pression she  reveals,  lift  those  jxirts  almost  to  the  level 
of  some  of  her  best  j)ortrayals  in  the  poetic  drama. 
These    include    Cibber's    Donna    Ilypolita,    Knowles's 


152         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

Julia,  and  in  Shakespeare,  Helena  ("  A  Midsummer 
Night's  Dream "),  Katharine  ("  The  Taming  of  the 
Shrew"),  Rosalind  ("As  You  Like  It"),  and  Viola 
("  Twelfth  Night  ").  Katharine  the  Shrew,  Miss  Re- 
han  has  made  her  own  part  ;  and  many  good  judges 
consider  her  the  best  of  all  living  Rosalinds.  The 
charm  of  her  Viola  is  irresistible,  and  her  delivery  of 
the  familiar  passages  in  "Twelfth  Night"  is  distin- 
guished by  almost  matchless  skill  and  grace.  The 
moods  of  Viola,  indeed,  seem  to  me  to  bring  into  view 
the  best  side  of  Miss  Rehan's  talent.  Allied  with  this 
role  in  sentiment  and  poetic  quality  are  the  Helena  of 
the  "Dream,"  and  Oriana  in  Farquhar's  "  Inconstant." 
Her  Peggy  Thrift  in  "  The  Country  Girl  "  is  in  lighter 
vein,  and  its  effect  is  wholly  comic  ;  but  it  is  one  of 
her  best-known  and  best-liked  impersonations,  and  is  a 
wonderfully  facile  and  picturesque  portrayal.  Letitia, 
in  a  condensed  version  of  "  The  Belle's  Stratagem," 
and  Miss  Hoyden,  in  a  sketch  adapted  from  Vanbrugh's 
"  Relapse,"  are  in  the  same  merry  category. 

Miss  Rehan's  rich  repertory  also  includes  Sylvia  in 
"The  Recruiting  Officer;"  Lady  Teazle,  which  she 
plays  in  the  rustic  manner  first  associated  with  the 
part  of  the  country  girl,  who  has  just  wedded  a  Lon- 
don old  bachelor,  by  Mrs.  Jordan  ;  Xantippe  in  J.  II. 
McCarthy's  English  version  of  de  Banville's  "  Fcmme 
de  Socrate  ;  "  and  Tilburina  in  Sheridan's  "Critic,"  a 
character  which  she  carries  with  that  perfect  gravity 
essential  to  true  burlesque. 

After  1884,  when  they  made  their  first  foreign  tour, 
Miss  Rehan,  as  leading  actress  of  Mr.  Daly's  company, 
acted  in  old  and  new  comedy  in  London  during  sev- 
eral seasons,  and   in    1890  and   1891    on   the  stage  of 


ADA    REHAN.  I 53 

the  Lyceum  Theatre  (Mr.  Irvine's).  Daly's  Theatre, 
Leicester  Square,  was  opened  in  1893.  The  critics 
and  the  playgoing  public  of  London  hold  her  in  the 
highest  esteem  ;  and  her  Katharine  and  Rosalind,  in 
particular,  were  the  themes  of  praise  in  verse  and  prose 
in  the  daily  and  weekly  press,  when  those  protrayals 
were  first  seen  there.  She  has  also  appeared  in  Dub- 
lin, Edinburgh,  and  Glasgow,  in  the  Memorial  Theatre 
at  Stratford-on-Avon,  in  Berlin  and  Hamburg,  and  in 
Paris.  In  short,  her  tall,  graceful  figure,  expressive 
face,  and  melodious  voice  are  as  well  known  to-day  in 
Europe  as  in  America.  Her  change  of  position  from 
chief  actress  in  Mr.  Daly's  company  to  "star"  under 
Mr.  Daly's  management  has  been  simply  a  formal 
recoirnition  of  the  rank  her  talents  had  won. 


JOHN    DREW. 

By  James  S.  Mktcalkk. 


Other  conditions  being  the  same,  the  public  at 
large  always  takes  a  greater  interest  in  a  woman  than 
in  a  man.  In  stage  matters  this  is  especially  true;  and 
no  one  knows  it  better  than  Mr.  Augustin  Daly,  if  we 
may  judge  by  the  trend  of  his  didactic  efforts.  Among 
the  graduates  from  his  dramatic  teaching  stand  out 
names  like  those  of  Agnes  Ethel,  Clara  Morris,  Sara 
Jewett,  and  Fanny  Davenport ;  but  one  looks  almost  in 
vain  to  find  in  his  roll  of  honor  the  name  of  a  man. 
This  is  said  without  disparagement  to  Mr.  Daly's 
general  methods.  He  has  done  so  much  to  advance 
the  standard  of  stage  management  and  of  dramatic 
ensemble  in  this  country  that  every  theatre-goer  in 
America  owes  him  a  personal  debt  of  gratitude.  In 
the  special  effort,  however,  which  looks  to  the  educa- 
tion of  the  individual  rather  than  the  training  of  a 
company,  Mr.  Daly  has  shown  emphatically  his  belief 
in  the  principle  first  stated. 

Almost  alone,  certainly  most  prominently,  stands  out 
the  name  of  John  Drew  among  the  male  actors  who 
have  come  under  Mr.  Daly's  influence.  From  the  fact 
that  many  other  young  men  have  been  Mr.  Daly's 
pui^ils  and  yet  have  failed  to  achieve  prominence,  it  is 

154 


JOHN  DREW. 


JOHN    DREW.  155 

fair  to  infer  that  some  exceptional  abilities  belong  to 
Mr.  Drew.  He  has  on  his  side  whatever  of  value  may 
lie  in  hereditary  instinct  and  early  association.  In 
dramatic  history  there  are  so  many  instances  of  the 
effect  of  these  causes  in  producing  results,  that  we 
may  safely  consider  them  at  least  not  a  handicap. 
Ahead  of  him  are  three  generations  of  stage  people. 
His  mother's  many  years'  management  of  the  Arch 
Street  Theatre  in  Philadelphia  brought  him  much  into 
contact  with  the  best  people  in  the  profession. 

Some  one  has  truly  said  that  no  one  can  become  a 
successful  dramatist  without  first  having  inflated  his 
lungs  with  the  atmosphere  of  the  green-room.  On  the 
same  principle  it  assuredly  helps  the  prospective  actor 
to  be  born  and  brought  up  in  constant  contact  with 
the  people  and  affairs  of  the  stage  ;  not  necessarily  for 
the  knowledge  it  gives  him  of  the  detail  and  routine 
of  professional  work,  but  because  to  the  proper  spirit 
such  association  must  needs  bring  the  ambition  and 
emulousness  which  will  lead  him  to  excel  the  deeds  of 
others. 

It  was  here,  at  his  mother's  theatre,  that  Mr.  Drew 
made  his  first  appearance.  It  was  in  the  old  stock- 
company  days,  and  Mrs.  Drew's  theatre  was  the  lead- 
ing one  of  its  class  in  Philadelphia.  P'or  weeks  at  a 
time  the  company  might  be  engaged  in  the  support  of 
some  peripatetic  star,  with  six  different  performances 
each  week ;  and  at  other  times,  when  there  hajiponcd 
to  be  no  engagement  of  a  star,  the  company  itself  sup- 
plied the  performance.  It  was  this  routine  whicii  pro- 
duced the  "  good  all-round  actor,"  now  so  rajiidly 
becoming  extinct.  In  view  of  the  general  lamentation 
among  some  old-school  people  at  the  decadence  of  this 


156        FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF    TO-DAY. 

system,  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  congratulate  the  public 
that  it  is  no  longer  made  the  supporter  of  and  the  chief 
sufferer  from  the  lessons  of  such  a  school.  The  fin- 
ished performances  under  the  present  system  of  stock- 
companies,  established  only  in  metropolitan  theatres 
and  "combinations "  travelling  through  the  country, 
are  better  than  those  of  the  days  when  parts  were 
studied  over  night,  and  the  performance  given  with 
one  or  two  or  three  rehearsals  by  an  over-worked 
company.  The  discipline  might  have  been  better  for 
the  young  actors  of  those  days,  but  it  was  certainly 
harder  on  their  audiences. 

It  was  on  March  22,  1873,  that  Mr.  Drew  became  a 
member  of  the  Arch  Street  Company,  and  made  his 
first  appearance  as  Plumper  in  "Cool  as  a  Cucum- 
ber." After  leaving  school  he  devoted  his  attention  to 
music,  languages,  fencing,  and  other  accomplishments 
incidental  to  the  varied  requirements  of  general  stage- 
work.  He  had  none  of  the  special  training  which  the 
foreign  conservatories  delight  in,  that  part  of  his  educa- 
tion being  left  to  the  hard  school  of  practical  work  in 
which  he  had  now  entered.  It  is  not  recorded  that  at 
his  first  appearance  any  remarkable  signs  were  vouch- 
safed to  indicate  the  bursting  on  the  dramatic  horizon 
of  a  great  actor;  but  he  acquitted  himself  creditably, 
considering  that  it  was  actually  his  first  appearance  on 
any  stage,  amateur  or  otherwise. 

His  second  appearance  was  as  Hornblower  in  "  The 
Laughing  Hyena;"  and  to  this  succeeded  such  accom- 
plishments as  Adolf  de  Courtroy  in  "The  Captain  of 
the  Watch  ; "  Cummy,  "  Betsy  Baker  ;  "  Captain  Cross- 
tree,  "Black-eyed  Susan;"  Dolly  Spanker,  "London 
Assurance;"  Caspar,  "Lady  of  Lyons;"  Modas,  "The 


JOHN    DREW.  157 

Hunchback  ; "  and  so  on  through  a  long  range  of 
characters  which  gave  the  young  actor  more  experi- 
ence than  leisure. 

After  two  years  of  this  work,  in  which  he  managed 
to  acquire  local  popularity  and  reputation,  he  came  to 
New  York  to  join  Mr.  Augustin  Daly's  Fifth  Avenue 
Theatre  Company.  During  his  first  season  in  New 
York,  Mr.  Drew  found  himself  going  through  some- 
thing the  same  course  of  training  only  in  a  higher  line 
of  work.  That  winter  Mr.  Daly  revived  a  number  of 
Shakespearian  and  other  standard  dramas,  and  the  com- 
pany was  kept  thoroughly  busy  with  rehearsals.  Mr. 
Drew  was  assigned  to  such  parts  as  K.vton  in  "  Richard 
II.;"  Francois,  "Richelieu;"  Francis,  "  Tlie  Stran- 
ger ; "  Glavis,  "  Lady  of  Lyons  ; "  and  Hortensio  in 
"  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew." 

From  this  season  on,  Mr.  Drew's  rise  was  a  rapid  one 
to  the  position  of  leading  juvenile  in  the  best-trained 
company  on  the  American  stage.  Of  his  well-known 
performances  those  which  hold  the  most  prominent 
place  in  the  public  mind  are  Orlando  in  "As  You  Like 
It,"  Adolphus  Doubledot  in  "The  Lottery  of  Love," 
Jack  Mulberry  in  "  A  Night  Off,"  and  Petruchio  in 
"The  Taming  of  the  Shrew,"  besides  the  leading  char- 
acters (in  which  he  has  starred)  of  "The  Masked 
Ball,"  "The  Bauble  Shop,"  and  "  Christopher  Jr." 

Of  Mr.  Drew's  individuality  as  an  actor  it  is  difficult 
to  speak  advisedly.  While  the  artist  was  only  one  of 
the  component  parts  of  a  company,  his  personal  charac- 
teristics were  of  necessity  kept  largely  in  the  back- 
ground in  deference  to  the  general  harmony.  In  the 
polite  comedies,  which  formed  the  largest  part  of  Mr. 
Daly's  stock  in  trade,  Mr.  Drew  strongly  emphasized 


158         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

the  first  requirement  of  his  parts  ;  that  is,  their  gentil- 
ity. The  actors  on  the  American  stage  who  can  as- 
sume the  part  of  a  gentleman,  and  not  vary  from  it 
through  the  ordeal  of  dramatic  broadening,  are  so  few 
that  when  we  once  find  the  power  it  is  noticeable  by 
contrast. 

Next  it  may  be  said  of  Mr.  Drew  that  he  secures  his 
effects  largely  by  suggestion.  He  leaves  just  enough 
to  the  spectator's  imagination  to  flatter  his  intelligence, 
and  thus  secure  perfect  sympathy  between  actor  and 
audience.  Overacting  is  so  ordinary  a  fault,  that  the 
actor  who  lets  the  hearer's  imagination  do  part  of  the 
acting  for  him  possesses  a  quality  which  is  thoroughly 
artistic  in  itself,  and,  from  its  rarity,  especially  valuable 
on  our  stage. 

A  lack  of  versatility  is  hardly  to  be  expected  from 
Mr.  Drew's  training  in  one  way,  but  it  is  his  chief 
fault.  It  should  be  remembered,  however,  that  until 
recently  he  was  to  a  certain  extent  in  leading  strings. 
Those  who  witnessed  his  performances  of  Petruchio, 
the  part  which  gives  his  artistic  powers  their  greatest 
opportunity,  were  ready  to  believe  that,  with  the  field 
open  to  him,  with  full  chance  to  use  his  own  ideas,  Mr. 
Drew  could  show  unexpected  abilities. 

In  conclusion,  Mr.  Drew  may  be  set  down  as  being 
the  most  polished  juvenile  actor  on  our  stage  to-day. 


:  -V^ 


JULIA   MARLOWE    AS    IMOGEN. 


JULIA  MARLOWE-TABER. 

By  Euwaki)  Fuller. 


More  than  one  person  will  recall  with  feelings  of 
grateful  pleasure  a  certain  December  evening  in  the 
year  1888.  The  scene  was  the  Hollis  Street  Theatre 
in  Boston,  and  the  event  was  the  first  appearance  in 
that  city  of  a  young  and  unknown  actress.  It  was  not 
a  large  audience  which  had  gathered  for  the  occasion. 
It  takes  a  great  amount  of  what  is  called  "  puffing  "  to 
e.xcite  public  interest  in  the  young  and  unknown  ;  and 
in  this  case  the  aspirant  for  dramatic  honors  came 
almost  unheralded.  She  had  made  her  bow  in  a  single 
afternoon  performance  in  New  York,  and  after  that 
had  been  known  to  fame  only  vaguely.  She  had  just 
played  an  engagement  in  Philadelphia  with  steadily 
increasing  approbation.  Colonel  Robert  G.  Ingersoll 
had  written  a  glowing  letter  in  her  praise.  But  these 
things  stirred  curiosity  only  faintly.  Did  we  not  all 
know  how  often  stage  swans  turned  out  to  be  geese  .■* 

That  evening  settled  the  question,  with  those  who 
saw  her,  of  the  right,  by  ability  and  inspiration,  of  Miss 
Julia  Marlowe  to  challenge  thoughtful  and  candid  crit- 
icism. Her  acting  betrayed  the  faults  of  youth  and 
inexperience;  but  it  also  showed  that  she  possessed  the 
genuine  artistic  temperament,  without  which  study  and 

'59 


l6o         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

training  are  vain.  Miss  Marlowe  conquered  almost 
from  the  outset  the  natural  and  usually  justifiable  pre- 
judice against  those  who  begin  at  the  head  rather  than 
at  the  foot  of  the  ranks.  Even  genius  itself  seldom 
springs  into  life  full-fledged,  like  Pallas  Athene  from 
the  brain  of  Zeus.  But  it  was  obvious  that  if  Miss 
Marlowe  did  not  give  the  sure  promise  of  a  noble  artis- 
tic future,  she  displayed  very  many  gifts  which  en- 
couraged one  to  hope  for  the  best.  Her  grace,  her 
delicacy,  her  refinement,  her  insight,  seemed  only  to 
await  the  ripening  process  of  time. 

And  as  Parthenia,  which  was  the  character  she 
chose  to  portray,  was  there  not  already  much  that  was 
thoroughly  and  exquisitely  winning.-'  Her  slender 
figure,  instinct  with  girlish  grace ;  her  well-shaped, 
well-poised  head  ;  her  dark  eyes,  shining  with  the 
mute  eloquence  of  a  clear  and  sensitive  soul,  — did  not 
these  reach  one's  ideal  of  maidenly  beauty  and  purity  ? 
It  was  not  an  ideal  Parthenia,  because  even  ingen- 
uousness and  sensibility  cannot  be  communicated  to 
the  mind  of  another  by  every  one  who  possesses  them. 
But  possibly  there  was  never  a  Parthenia  which  gave 
greater  promise.  It  was  honest  ;  it  was  sincere ;  it  was 
free  from  self-consciousness  and  mannerism.  One 
could  overlook  the  occasional  crudeness  of  execution  in 
the  beauty  of  conception.  "Ingomar"  is  not  a  good 
play ;  it  is  tedious,  and  it  abounds  in  that  vapid  senti- 
mentality characteristic  of  the  German  mind.  I  would 
rather  sit  through  a  performance  of  one  of  Mr.  Hoyt's 
ingenious  farces  than  see  it  again.  For  all  that,  it 
became  interesting  to  me  with  Miss  Marlowe  as  the 
heroine.  From  that  evening  I,  for  one,  never  doubted 
her  ultimate  success. 


JULTA    MARLOWE-TABER.  l6l 

Biography  in  this  case  must  happily  be  brief.  Miss 
Marlowe's  career  is  all  before  her,  and  I  touch  lightly 
upon  the  past.  She  was  born  late  in  the  sixties  in  the 
north  of  England,  in  a  little  town  some  twenty-five 
miles  from  Carlisle.  Cumberland  is  not  the  most  fer- 
tile shire  south  of  the  Tweed  ;  often  for  miles  the  eye 
is  met  only  with  picturesque  barrenness.  But  in  Julia 
Marlowe's  case  we  cannot  ask  what  influence  surround- 
ings such  as  these  may  have  had  upon  her  career. 
She  was  but  five  years  old  when  she  came  to  the 
United  States.  By  training,  therefore,  she  is  an 
American.  Her  education  was  gained  in  our  i)ublic 
schools  ;  her  training  for  the  stage  was  domestic,  not 
foreign.  We  may  therefore  fairly  claim  the  undis- 
puted possession  of  her  genius  and  her  glory.  She  is 
as  much  ours  as  any  of  the  distinguished  artists  who 
adorn  our  dramatic  annals  have  been.  Like  many  of 
these,  she  saw  the  footlights  when  she  was  still  a  child. 
For  two  seasons  she  travelled  with  a  juvenile  oj)era 
company,  playing  in  "Pinafore"  and  other  popular 
works  of  the  kind.  A  little  later  she  was  "on  the 
road "  with  Miss  Josephine  Riley.  She  was  then  in- 
trusted with  parts  so  important  as  that  of  Maria  in 
"Twelfth  Night";  and  she  played  Balthasar  in  "Ro- 
meo and  Juliet"  and  Stephen  in  "The  Hunchback." 
F*ortunately,  perhaps,  for  her  progress  in  her  art,  she 
withdrew  for  a  time  from  active  work  for  the  purpose 
of  individual  study  and  discii)line.  How  faithful  and 
thorough  this  training  must  have  been  can  easily  be 
understood.  It  was  after  six  weeks  of  a  short  and 
inconspicuous  tour  in  the  early  months  of  i88<S  that 
Miss  Marlowe  really  began  her  career  upon  the  stage. 
That  career  has  been  throughout  a  peculiarly  success- 


1 62         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

fill  one.  Wherever  Miss  Marlowe  has  once  won  popu- 
larity she  has  retained  it.  The  same  audiences  greet 
her  year  after  year  as  she  goes  from  city  to  city,  and 
in  these  audiences  the  number  of  cultivated  people  is 
unusually  large.  The  character  of  the  plays  she  pre- 
sents is  one  reason  for  this,  for  it  is  not  often  in  these 
days  that  the  theatre  appeals  to  the  intellectual  part  of 
man.  Another  reason  is  the  character  of  the  company 
which  supports  the  leading  player  ;  from  the  beginning 
it  has  been  of  unusual  merit.  The  accession  to  this 
company  of  Mr.  Robert  Taber,  to  whom  Miss  Marlowe 
was  not  long  ago  married,  has  greatly  added  to  its 
strength.  Indeed,  the  husband  and  wife,  both  young, 
both  clever,  both  more  than  ordinarily  earnest,  both 
sincere  in  their  devotion  to  their  art,  have  an  opportu- 
nity to  establish  for  themselves  a  place  on  the  American 
stage  of  commanding  influence,  of  potent  usefulness. 

Criticism,  too,  must  be  limited  in  the  case  of  one 
whose  career,  or  the  best  part  of  it,  is  still  to  come. 
It  would  be  impossible,  under  such  circumstances,  to 
sum  up  adequately  every  phase  of  Miss  Marlowe's 
geniu.s.  We  may  say  that  the  genius  is  unquestioned, 
that  it  has  already  revealed  its  weakness  as  well  as 
its  strength,  its  defects  as  well  as  its  merits.  We  may 
discover  in  what  she  has  achieved  the  epitome  of  her 
possible  achievement.  And  yet  the  final  estimate  re- 
mains for  the  future  to  pronounce  —  let  us  hope  the 
far  distant  future.  In  these  pages  it  will  be  sufficient 
to  glance  in  swift  succession  at  some  characters  which 
Miss  Marlowe  has  so  far  portrayed,  and  to  draw  from 
these  results  what  deductions  one  may,  both  as  to  the 
present  value  of  her  art  and  the  potency  of  its  promise. 

There  is  little  similarity  between  the  characters  of 


JULIA    MARLOWE-TABER.  1 63 

Parthenia  and  Galatea ;  yet  for  purposes  of  illustration 
there  are  several  points  in  which  an  impersonation  of 
the  one  may  be  compared  with  an  impersonation  of  the 
other.  Both  are  pseudo-classical ;  the  phrase  does  not 
hit  my  meaning  exactly,  but  I  can  think  of  none  more 
definite.  But  whereas  "  Ingomar  "  takes  pseudo-clas- 
sicism seriously,  and  presents  us  our  Greek  subject 
sicklied  o'er  with  the  pale  cast  of  German  sentimentality, 
"  Pygmalion  and  Galatea"  uses  the  old  myth  merely  as 
a  convenient  vehicle  for  modern  satire,  and  grants  us 
our  humorous  hypothesis  at  the  outset.  One  need  not 
pursue  the  argument  further  to  discover  the  immense 
superiority,  both  dramatically  and  intellectually,  of  Mr. 
Gilbert's  method.  What  is  important  to  remember  is 
the  fact  that,  while  girlish  sweetness  and  gentle  pathos 
go  far  to  compose  a  satisfactory  Parthenia,  many  quali- 
ties immensely  more  difficult  of  portrayal  enter  into  the 
composition  of  Galatea.  The  superficial  simplicity  of 
the  part  is  a  potent  trap  for  a  young  artist.  Miss  Mar- 
lowe's Parthenia  is  a  charming  creation  ;  but  it  is  al- 
most an  inevitable  corollary  of  this  statement  to  say  that 
her  Galatea  is  inadequate.  The  very  qualities  which 
create  success  in  one  case  help  to  determine  failure  in 
the  other.  Her  Galatea  is,  in  fact,  just  a  little  too  seri- 
ous. It  is  often  graceful  and  winning,  but  it  lacks  the 
salt  of  humor.  Yes,  some  one  will  say,  but  Galatea  her- 
self had  no  sense  of  humor  to  speak  of.  Preci.sely  ;  it 
takes  a  plentiful  supply  of  a  given  quality  to  portray  its 
deficiency.  I  do  not  mean  by  this  that  Miss  Marlowe 
has  no  appreciation  of  Gilbert's  exquisite  satire  ;  it  is 
probably  quite  the  other  way.  The  art  of  acting,  how- 
ever, lies  beyond  the  mere  intellectual  impulse.  After 
one  understands,  one  must  feel ;  even  Diderot's  famous 


164        FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

Paradoxe  does  not  fairly  contradict  this  condition. 
Miss  Marlowe  may  understand  Galatea,  but  she  never 
loses  herself  in  the  character.  She  constructs  her  im- 
personation from  without,  not  from  within. 

This  limitation  in  Miss  Marlowe's  emotional  range 
is  discoverable  in  two  Shakespearian  impersonations 
which  are  otherwise  thoroughly  charming.  I  refer,  of 
course,  to  her  Rosalind  and  her  Viola.  Both  reach  the 
ideal  in  many  respects  ;  and  both  fall  short  of  it  in 
other  respects  because  of  her  lack  of  humor  and  the 
variety  which  humor  gives.  I  do  not  wish,  however,  to 
emphasize  this  point,  since  to  do  so  might  obscure  the 
decided  merits  in  Miss  Marlowe's  work.  Her  concep- 
tion of  Rosalind  is  in  the  main  true;  although  she  often 
suggests,  rather  than  realizes,  that  bewitching  but  diffi- 
cult creation.  She  has  buoyancy  enough,  but  not  quite 
the  spirit  of  breezy  mirth  that  carries  Rosalind  trium- 
phantly through  her  mad  freak.  This  deduction  once 
made,  praise  is  easy.  Miss  Marlowe  takes  the  per- 
fectly sane  and  intelligible  view  that  Rosalind  is 
exquisitely  feminine,  despite  her  assumption  of  "a 
swashing  and  a  martial  outside."  Her  attire  is  pri- 
marily her  defence,  rather  than  a  license  to  play  the 
hoyden.  There  is  not  a  false  or  mawkish  strain  in  her 
nature ;  her  spirits  are  under  no  heavy  cloud  ;  she 
laughs  her  troubles  off.  And  yet  Shakespeare  did  not 
leave  us  without  an  intimate  conviction  of  her  exquisite 
womanliness  ;  she  loses  that  boyish  courage,  and  grows 
faint  with  a  sense  of  physical  repulsion,  when  she  sees 
the  bloody  napkin.  If  Miss  Marlowe  falls  a  little  short 
of  the  mirth  of  the  part,  surely  she  portrays  with  a 
finely  beautiful  touch   its  other  qualities. 

Of  Miss  Marlowe's  Viola  it  is  a  pleasure  to  speak 


JULIA    MARLOWE-TABER.  1 65 

in  well-nigh  unqualified  commendation.  The  humor  of 
Viola,  except  in  a  single  scene,  is  so  closely  akin  to 
pathos  that  we  should  naturally  expect  Miss  Marlowe 
to  give  it  adequate  expression.  It  is,  as  Viola  her- 
self says,  a  "  smiling  at  grief."  In  all  the  lighter 
phases  of  emotion  through  which  she  passes  we  discern 
the  woman's  heart  beating  with  hopeless  love.  Even 
the  amusement  which  Olivia's  sudden  passion  at  first 
arouses  is  quickly  transmuted  into  pain.  "  Poor  lady, 
she  were  better  love  a  dream."  All  this  "frailty," 
as  she  calls  it,  is  pitiful ;  it  is  too  hard  a  knot  for  her  to 
untie.  Upon  some  such  key-note  as  this  Miss  Marlowe 
pitches  her  impersonation  ;  and  its  tender  grace,  its 
pathetic  delicacy,  are  admirable.  I  am  not  sure  that  it 
is  not  to  be  called  her  most  nearly  perfect  work.  The 
poorest  scene  in  it  is  that  of  the  duel  with  Sir  Andrew  ; 
which  goes  to  sustain  my  point  that  Miss  Marlowe's 
chiefest  lack  is  humor.  But  fault-finding  with  anything 
so  nearly  ideal  seems  peculiarly  ungracious.  Let  us 
rather  accept  gratefully  a  sweet  and  maidenly  and  es- 
sentially poetical  rendering  of  one  of  Shakespeare's 
most  .sympathetic  characters. 

I  might  have  added  a  third  Shakespearian  imper- 
sonation as  showing  in  a  more  striking  fashion  than 
cither  of  those  I  have  mentioned  the  limitations  of 
Miss  Marlowe  in  the  direction  of  humor.  This  is 
her  Prince  Hal  in  "  Henry  IV.,  first  shown  to  us  in 
1 895-1896."  It  was  a  serious  mistake  on  her  part, 
I  think,  to  try  to  play  a  role  like  this  —  one  where  her 
strength  could  not  be  shown,  but  where  her  weak- 
ness would  be  always  in  evidence.  The  Prince  is  exu- 
berantly masculine  ;  and  no  woman  can  represent  this 
quality  properly,  least  of  all  a  dainty  antl  refined  woman 


1 66        FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

like  Miss  Marlowe.  But  it  is  ungracious  to  dwell  upon 
a  flat  failure,  and  I  hope  that  Miss  Marlowe  will  not 
hereafter  attempt  the  impossible.  The  sprightly  but 
conspicuously  feminine  Miss  Hardcastle  is  more  nearly 
within  her  range,  and  this  impersonation  justly  pleases 
by  its  arch  grace  and  tender  gayety.  But  there  is  one 
thing  lacking;  and  this  neither  Miss  Marlowe  nor  any 
other  young  actor,  I  think,  is  likely  to  acquire.  It  is 
what  must  be  called,  for  want  of  a  better  phrase,  the 
grand  comedy  manner.  We  find  it  in  the  few  remain- 
ing actors  of  the  "old  school,"  but  it  must  soon  be- 
come a  tradition.  To  explain  just  what  I  mean  by  the 
grand  comedy  manner,  or  to  point  out  its  necessary 
connection  with  the  school  of  comedy  which  gave  rise 
to  it,  is  an  impossibility  here.  Old  theatre-goers  will 
know  what  I  mean  without  any  explanation.  Of  some 
other  impersonations  by  Miss  Marlowe,  it  is  not  ne- 
cessary to  speak.  In  Chatterton,  in  Pauline,  and  in 
various  experimental  essays  in  acting,  she  has  done 
nothing  that  presents  her  art  in  a  new  aspect. 

In  the  portrayal  of  passion,  too,  Miss  Marlowe  still 
leaves  something  to  be  desired  ;  and  so  her  Julia  in 
"The  Hunchback,"  which  requires  both  humor  and 
passion,  is  on  the  whole  the  least  satisfactory  of  her 
impersonations.  This  leads  us  by  a  natural  sequence 
of  thought  to  the  consideration  of  her  Juliet,  dis- 
tinctly a  character  of  passion.  Before  we  undertake  to 
analyze  either,  however,  it  will  be  convenient  to  say  a 
word  about  her  Imogen,  a  character  more  closely  al- 
lied with  Viola,  but  not  to  my  mind  half  so  interest- 
ing. It  must  be  said  at  the  outset  that  to  portray 
Imogen  effectively  requires  a  greater  maturity  of 
method  than  Miss  Marlowe  can  yet  be  expected  to  pos- 


JULIA    MARLOWE-TABER.  1 67 

scss.  Imogen  is  a  study  in  wifely  devotion.  She  is 
one  upon  whom  the  cares  and  griefs  of  life  have  left 
their  indelible  mark.  "There  cannot  be  a  pinch  in 
death  more  sharp"  than  the  sufferings  which  she  has 
to  bear.  Her  love  is  strong  as  death,  but  the  jealousy 
of  Posthumus  is  cruel  as  the  grave.  The  shameful 
charge  preferred  against  her  is  a  blow  under  which  her 
whole  nature  reels.  In  the  phrase  of  Pisanio,  "the 
paper  hath  cut  her  throat  already  ;"  no  other  misery  is 
possible  to  a  proud  and  faithful  woman  thus  outraged 
in  all  her  deepest  sensibilities.  Perhaps  the  character 
is  one  not  capable  of  the  most  effective  handling  upon 
the  stage.  Be  that  as  it  may,  no  actress  in  this  part 
has  ever  moved  me  as  I  feel  I  ought  to  be  moved. 
There  is  much  that  is  pretty,  much  that  is  pathetic,  in 
Miss  Marlowe's  work;  and  one  sees  the  chance  of 
further  spiritual  growth.  But  for  the  present  it  re- 
mains a  sketch  rather  than  a  completed  portrait. 

I  come  now  to  speak  of  the  most  difficult  character 
which  Miss  Marlowe  has  essayed,  that  of  Juliet. 

"Although  I  joy  in  thee, 
I  have  no  joy  of  this  contract  to-night  ; 
It  is  too  rash,  too  unadvisM,  too  sudden  ; 
Too  like  the  lightning,  which  doth  cease  to  1)0 
F^re  one  can  say  '  It  lightens,'  " 

In  these  words  of  Juliet's,  spoken  to  Romeo  in  the 
moonlit  mystery  of  the  balcony  in  Cai:)ulet's  orchard, 
lies  the  key-note  of  the  imperishable  tragedy  of  Shake- 
speare's youth.  It  is  the  hi.story  of  a  swift,  mad  passion, 
blighting  two  lives,  entangled  through  no  fault  of  their 
own  in  the  inextricable  meshes  of  Fate  ;  and  it  is  fit- 
ting that   in  the  first  melody  of  love  there  should  be 


1 68      FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

an  undertone  of  profound  sadness.  "  Romeo  and  Ju- 
liet "  is,  as  Professor  Dowden  says,  "a  young  man's 
tragedy,  in  which  Youth  and  Love  are  brought  face  to 
face  with  Hatred  and  Death."  In  this,  it  seems  to  me, 
is  to  be  found  the  chief  difficulty  in  playing  either 
Romeo  or  Juliet.  To  reach  the  eye  the  actors  must 
be  young ;  to  reach  the  imagination,  they  must,  almost 
of  necessity,  be  no  longer  young.  "Ich  habe  gelcbt 
und  geliebet  "  is  a  confession  which  savors  of  the  bit- 
terness worse  than  death;  and  the  Theklas  who  can 
sing  it  cannot  say  it.  The  well-worn  maxim  that  no 
actress  can  impersonate  Juliet  until  she  is  too  old  to 
look  the  part  has  a  melancholy  degree  of  truth. 

But  Miss  Marlowe  brings  to  this  difficult  task  many 
gifts,  both  of  nature  and  of  training.  If  she  be  lacking 
in  passion,  she  has,  nevertheless,  almost  every  other 
qualification  in  an  ideal  measure.  In  the  lighter  phases 
of  the  character  she  is  admirable.  The  delicacy,  grace, 
and  tenderness  of  her  first  meeting  with  Romeo ;  the 
virginal  sweetness  and  beauty  of  her  confession  of 
love  for  him,  as  she  leans  from  the  balcony  beneath 
the  glimpses  of  the  moon ;  the  indomitable  faithful- 
ness by  virtue  of  which  she  clings  to  him  in  the  face 
of  harsh  reproof  and  of  the  promptings  of  the  vulgar 
soul  at  her  elbow  ;  the  awful  forebodings  of  that  dis- 
mal scene  which  she  needs  must  act  alone,  —  these  and 
other  phases  of  that  inexpressibly  sad  and  touching  his- 
tory are  exquisitely  portrayed.  And  it  is  all  delight- 
fully spontaneous  and  untheatrical.  But  force  —  the 
burning  force  of  passion  —  is  wanting.  There  is  power 
to  conceive ;  the  lack  is  felt  in  the  execution,  espe- 
cially in  the  ardent  scenes  wMth  Romeo,  and  in  the 
final  tragedy  in  the  tomb  of  the  Capulets.     It  would 


JULIA    MARLOWE— TABER.  169 

be  surprising,  indeed,  if  Miss  Marlowe  could  yet  real- 
ize so  imminently  vital  a  character  as  Juliet.  But  she 
goes  so  far  in  the  right  direction  that  I,  for  one,  am 
hopeful  of  seeing  her  yet  the  foremost  Juliet  of  her 
time.  The  doubt  lies  in  her  capacity  for  the  expres- 
sion of  passion.  Of  her  genius  for  the  poetic  drama 
there  can  be  no  denial. 

I  will  not  pretend,  in  this  brief  sketch,  to  sum  up 
Miss  Marlowe's  abilities  as  an  artist,  or  to  say  what 
turn — for  the  better  or  worse  —  her  still  nascent 
genius  may  take.  It  is  an  inevitable  condition  in  writ- 
ing of  one  whose  career  is  still  before  her  that  much 
must  be  left  unsaid.  That  she  shows  greater  promise 
than  any  artist  who  has  come  among  us  since  Adelaide 
Neilson  died  is  to  my  mind  unquestionable.  That  she 
is  still  open  to  the  influences  of  .study  and  experience 
is  also  happily  true.  Miss  Marlowe  unites  modesty 
with  ambition,  and  openness  of  mind  with  persever- 
ance. There  is  apparently  little  danger  that  her  nature 
will  cease  to  expand,  and  that  she  will  become  in  con- 
sequence mannered  and  merely  technical.  Further- 
more, she  adds  to  striking  attractiveness  of  person  the 
charm  of  a  cultivated  and  musical  voice.  With  her 
the  poetic  drama  is  still  poetry.  If  to  such  sensibility, 
such  earnestness,  such  appreciation  of  the  beautiful,  is 
added  the  crown  of  further  artistic  perfection,  what 
triumphs  may  we  not  anticipate  for  her  in  the  future.' 


JOHN     GILBERT. 

By  Stephen  Fiske. 


John  Gilbert  is  usually  spoken  of  as  "  an  actor  of 
the  old  school."  But,  in  fact,  no  methods  could  be 
more  modern  than  his  were;  and  certainly  no  Jin  tie 
sikle  star  ever  sprang  more  suddenly,  at  a  single 
bound,  from  the  counter  to  the  stage,  from  dry  goods 
to  the  green-room. 

Born  at  Boston,  Feb.  27,  18 10,  John  Gilbert  made 
his  theatrical  debut  in  his  nineteenth  year,  as  Jaffier  in 
"Venice  Preserved,"  to  the  Belvidera  of  that  great  but 
forgotten  actress,  Mary  Uuff,  at  the  Tremont  Theatre. 
His  next  characters  were  Sir  Edward  Mortimer  in 
"The  Iron  Chest,"  and  Shylock  in  the  "Merchant  of 
Venice."  Could  the  most  ambitious  aspirant  of  the 
new  school  have  begun  any  younger  and  any  nearer 
the  top  of  the  ladder  .-* 

Next  door  to  the  Atkins  house  in  Richmond  Street, 
Boston,  where  Gilbert  was  born,  lived  Charlotte  Cush- 
man  ;  and  the  future  actress  and  actor  were  playmates. 
Gilbert  lost  his  father  in  early  boyhood,  and  was  edu- 
cated at  the  public  schools,  and  then  taken  as  a  clerk 
in  a  dry-goods  store  by  his  uncle.  At  school  he  had 
been  praised  for  his  declamation,  and  this  inspired 
him  with  the  desire  for  the  stage.     He  joined  the  Tre- 

170 


JOHN  GILBERT  AS  SIR  PETER  TEAZLE. 


JOHN    GILBERT.  I7I 

mont  Company  clandestinely,  and  was  almost  broken 
down,  on  his  first  night,  at  the  sight  of  his  uncle  glar- 
ing at  him  from  a  private  box.  The  next  day  his 
mother  besought  him  to  return  to  the  dry-goods  busi- 
ness, and  even  followed  him  into  the  green-room  of  the 
theatre  to  forbid  his  reappearance.  But  he  already  felt 
his  vocation,  and  insisted  upon  fulfilling  iiis  engage- 
ment. 

Having  begun  at  the  top  of  the  ladder,  John  Gilbert 
had  the  extraordinary  common  sense  to  begin  again  at 
the  bottom,  and  climb  up  step  by  step.  After  the  season 
of  1828  at  the  Tremont,  he  went  to  the  Camp-street 
Theatre,  New  Orleans,  under  Manager  Caldwell,  and 
served  an  apprenticeship  for  five  years,  playing  all 
sorts  of  parts.  At  nineteen  he  was  cast  for  old  men  ; 
and,  though  he  at  first  revolted,  he  gradually  became 
convinced  that  this  line  was  his  true  specialty,  and  he 
seldom  deserted  it  after  his  majority. 

Here  was  a  change  from  Jaffier  and  Mortimer!  Hut 
during  his  provincial  studies  he  experienced  a  more 
important  change, —  from  tragedy  to  comedy.  Like 
most  other  comedians,  he  fancied  himself  a  tragedian  ; 
and  he  often  said  that,  like  Burton,  he  was  cured  of 
this  delusion  by  accident.  During  his  engagement  in 
the  South  he  was  intlignant  when  cast  for  comedy 
characters  ;  but  his  success  in  them  determined  his 
career. 

Returning  from  New  Orleans  to  Boston,  in  1834,  l^^' 
made  his  r\ntn'c  as  Old  Dornton  in  "The  Road  to 
Ruin,"  for  the  benefit  of  George  Barrett,  a  local  favo- 
rite, and  was  at  once  engaged  by  Manager  Barry  for 
the  rebuilt  Tremont  Theatre.  For  two  seasons  he 
played  almost  everything,  from  Master  Walter  to  Isaac 


172         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

of  York,  from  Macduff  to  Squeers,  from  Polonius  to 
Tom  Noddy.  Then  he  became  the  stage-manager ; 
then  appeared  at  the  old  Bowery,  New  York,  as  Peter 
l^radley,  the  sexton,  in  "  Rookwood  ;  "  then  accepted 
brief  engagements  at  the  National  and  Federal  Street 
Theatres,  Boston,  and  in  April,  1846,  took  a  pleasure 
trip  to  Europe. 

In  London  the  real  school  of  John  Gilbert  was 
found,  —  the  English  school.  Old  Farren  was  then  the 
leader  of  the  London  stage,  "  the  only  cock  salmon 
in  the  market,"  as  he  used  to  express  it,  and  upon 
him  John  Gilbert  modelled  his  style.  American  players 
seldom  go  abroad  to  act,  but  they  always  take  their 
stage  wardrobes  with  them.  Gilbert  went  to  Europe 
for  a  vacation  ;  but  he  was  asked  to  appear  at  the 
Princess's  Theatre  as  Sir  Robert  Bramble  in  "  The 
Poor  Gentleman,"  and  was  so  applauded  by  the  public 
and  the  critics  that  he  remained  for  a  whole  season, 
including  an  engagement  with  Macready.  During  his 
visits  to  Paris  he  managed  to  see  Rachel,  Lafont, 
Fechter,  and  the  grand  Frederic  Lemaitre ;  and  he 
learned  the  French  art  of  expressing  emotion  by  re- 
pressing it. 

Now  thirty-eight  years  old,  a  finished  actor,  grad- 
uated in  London  and  Paris,  with  no  rivals  on  either 
side  of  the  Atlantic,  except  William  Warren  and  Rufus 
Blake,  as  first  old  man,  John  Gilbert  came  home  to 
appear  at  the  famous  Park  Theatre,  New  York,  as  Sir 
Anthony  Absolute.  As  Admiral  Kingston  in  "  Naval 
Engagements  "  he  spoke  the  last  words  ever  uttered 
on  the  stage  of  the  old  Park,  which  was  destroyed  by 
lire  Dec.  16,  1848.  He  was  then  engaged  by  Mana- 
ger Tom  Hamblin  for  the  Bowery  Theatre;  and  in  the 


JOHN    GILBERT.  1 73 

same  company  were  Lester  Wallack,  Mary  Taylor,  and 
J.  W.  Wallack,  Jun. 

Until  1854  Gilbert  divided  his  seasons  between  the 
stock  companies  of  the  Bowery,  the  Howard  Athe- 
naeum, Boston,  and  the  Chestnut  Street,  Philadelphia. 
At  the  opening  of  the  Boston  Theatre  he  delivered  tiie 
poetical  address  written  by  T.  W.  Parsons,  and  stayed 
for  four  seasons  with  his  old  manager,  Thomas  Barry. 
A  service  of  silver  was  presented  to  him  by  public 
subscription  at  one  of  his  annual  benefits.  Bottom 
and  Caliban  increased  his  reputation  as  an  actor  of 
exquisite  humor.  He  left  the  Boston  Theatre,  in  1858, 
for  the  Arch  Street,  Philadelphia,  where  he  remained 
until,  in  1862,  the  elder  Wallack  summoned  him  to 
New  York  to  play  Sir  Peter  Teazle  at  the  new  Wal- 
lack's  Theatre  (later  the  Star)  on  the  corner  of  Thir- 
teenth Street  and  Broadway. 

This  was  John  Gilbert's  true  d^biit  in  New  York. 
Old  things  had  passed  away.  His  previous  perform- 
ances at  the  Bowery  and  the  Park  had  been  forgotten. 
A  new  generation  had  arisen  who  knew  not  the  great 
actors  of  the  past.  The  Civil  War,  just  beginning,  was 
to  become  a  deep  gulf  between  theatrical  as  well  as 
national  epochs.  It  was  Gilbert's  opportunity,  and  he 
seized  it.  Surrounded  by  the  best  comedians  in  the 
country,  —  Blake,  Holland,  Wallack,  Sefton,  Sloane, 
Mrs.  Vernon,  Mrs.  Hoey,  Mary  Gannon,  —  he  proved 
himself  wortiiy  to  rank  with  them.  From  1861  to  1888, 
when  Wallack's  Theatre  ceased  to  e.xist,  he  continued 
to  be  a  leading  member  of  the  stock  company  ;  and  for 
him  the  special  position  of  acting-manager — distinct 
from  Treasurer  Moss  and  Stage-manager  T'lovd — was 
created,  as  an  excuse  for  giving  him  an  e.xtra  salary. 


I  74        FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

In  1878  Gilbert's  fiftieth  year  on  the  stage  was  cele- 
brated by  a  banquet  at  the  Lotos  Club,  Nov,  30,  and 
a  benefit  matim^c  performance  at  Wallack's  Theatre, 
Dec.  5.  Hon.  Whitelavv  Reid  presided  at  the  ban- 
quet; and  among  the  professionals  present  were  John 
Brougham,  John  McCullough,  William  Davidge,  Harry 
Beckett,  W.  R.  Floyd,  Junius  Booth,  and  Lester  Wal- 
lack, — alllong  since  dead.  For  his  benefit  appeared 
Maude  Granger,  Eben  Plympton,  Charles  Leclercq, 
Rose  Osborne,  Harry  Ey tinge,  and  Ben  Maginley  in 
"Almost  a  Life;"  Dion  Boucicault,  Agnes  Booth, 
Charles  Stevenson,  and  Stella  Boniface  in  "  Kerry ; " 
Lester  Wallack  and  Ada  Dyas  in  "  A  Morning  Call ;" 
Rose  Coghlan,  Charles  Coghlan,  and  Charles  Barron 
in  the  screen  scene  from  "The  School  for  Scandal;" 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  J.  C.  Williamson  in  "The  Chinese  Ques- 
tion;" Birch  and  Backus  in  "  Society  Actors; "  George 
Knight  recited  ;  Tom  Baker  and  Henry  Tissington  led 
the  orchestra.  Gilbert's  address  on  this  golden  wed- 
ding anniversary  of  his  union  with  the  stage  was  a 
masterpiece  of  eloquence.  When  he  said,  "  During 
these  fifty  years  I  have  seen  moving  two  great  proces- 
sions of  friends, — one  coming  upon  the  stage  to  play 
their  brief  parts,  the  other  passing  silently  away," 
there  were  audible  signs  of  emotion  among  the  pro- 
fessional audience. 

No  doubt  John  Gilbert's  life  was  shortened  by  the 
failure  of  Wallack's  up-town  theatre  (now  Palmer's). 
His  heart  was  in  it,  and  he  died  within  a  month 
after  its  final  performance.  He  said  of  it  (May  29, 
1889)  :  "  Last  night  closed  thirty-five  years  of  Wal- 
lack's Theatre.  The  end  is  sad.  I  fear  to  say  it  was 
inglorious.       He   was   the   last    actor-manajrer.       What 


J(3HN    GILBERT.  1 75 

are  we  to  look  to  in  the  future  ? "  For  him  there  was 
no  future.  On  his  way  from  New  York  to  his  summer 
home  at  Manchester-by-the-Sea,  he  was  taken  ill  with 
pneumonia,  stopped  at  Boston  for  treatment,  and  died 
there,  on  his  native  soil,  June  17,  1889.  His  last 
appearance  on  any  stage  was  at  the  Fifth  Avenue 
Theatre,  Nov.  10,  1888,  as  Sir  Anthony  Absolute,  in 
Joseph  Jefferson's  mangled  version  of  "  The  Rivals." 
His  funeral  was  at  the  Church  of  the  Unity,  Boston. 
The  Rev.  M.  J.  Savage  officiated.  The  pallbearers 
were  Colonel  Hatch,  Colonel  W.  W.  Clapp,  Colonel 
Henry  Lee,  G.  S.  Winston,  Curtis  Guild,  and  Joseph 
IVoctor  the  veteran  tragedian.  The  burial  was  at 
Forest  Hills  Cemetery. 

Gilbert  was  twice  married  ;  in  1836  to  Miss  Campbell 
of  Philadelphia,  who  became  a  farce  actress,  and  ap- 
peared in  farces  at  Boston,  New  York,  and  London  ; 
in  1867  to  Sarah  H.  Gavett  of  Boston,  who  survived 
him.      Both  marriages  were  fortunate  ant!  happy. 

The  place  of  John  Gilbert  as  an  actor  has  been  al- 
ready indicated.  He  was  the  best  of  first  old  men 
among  American  professionals,  anil  second  only  to  the 
elder  Farren  and  to  Blake  upon  the  I^^nglish-speaking 
stage.  In  appearance  he  was  tall,  handsome,  distin- 
guished. His  manner  was  courtly,  elegant,  dignified. 
His  elocution  was  clear,  musical,  and  impressive.  His 
only  fault — which  in  some  characters  seemed  a  merit 
—  was  a  certain  stiffness  and  hardness,  which  took  the 
sweetness  from  his  sentiment  and  the  point  from  his 
pathos.  During  his  career  he  played  eleven  hundred 
and  fifty  different  parts  in  tragedy  and  comedy,  acting 
them  all  well,  and  most  of  them  perfectly.  Beginning 
when  salaries  were  small,  and  scenery  and  properties 


176        FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

were  neglected,  he  won  his  way  by  industry,  sobriety, 
and  talent  to  the  head  of  his  profession  ;  held  his  own 
against  three  generations  of  actors,  and  improved  his 
acting  to  harmonize  with  all  the  modern  improvements 
of  the  stage.  Yet  at  no  time  was  he  individually 
powerful  enough  to  make  a  success  as  a  star.  He  be- 
lieved in  the  stock-company  system,  and  died  when 
that  system  was  generally  abandoned. 

Off  the  stage  John  Gilbert  seemed  to  be  inspired 
with  the  characteristics  of  the  parts  he  had  acted  so 
long  and  well.  He  was  genial  and  choleric,  amiable 
and  obstinate,  stately  and  petulant,  agreeable  and  posi- 
tive. At  the  Lamb's  Club  he  would  sing  rollicking 
old  songs  for  the  amusement  of  the  youngsters  ;  but 
touch  him  upon  any  point  of  professional  etiquette, 
and  he  bristled  like  the  fretful  porcupine.  At  home 
he  was  hearty  and  hospitable.  His  tone  was  cordial, 
but  his  temper  quick.  He  never  flattered  anybody 
except  Lester  Wallack,  whom  he  loved  as  his  artistic 
son.  He  understood  himself  and  the  technicalities 
of  his  profession  thoroughly,  and  submitted  to  no 
tuition  or  domination  after  he  had  graduated  with 
Macready. 

"  Acting,"  John  Gilbert  said,  "  is  not  a  matter  of 
taste,  but  a  matter  of  fact  —  as  exact  as  any  other  sci- 
ence." He  despised  and  detested  what  he  called  "the 
baby,  goody-goody  drama  of  the  Madison  Square,"  and 
society  plays,  which  he  described  as  "  nine  gentlemen, 
all  dressed  alike,  from  the  waiter  up  to  the  hero,"  and 
the  star  system,  which  he  denounced  as  "  born  of  the 
desire  to  save  expense,  and  nourished  by  those  who 
have  no  true  taste  or  interest  in  the  drama."  But 
underneath  the  prim   precision  of  his  life  and  of  his 


JOHN    GILBERT.  1 77 

acting  he  had  a  warm  and  gentle  heart.  Often  he 
said  of  himself  —  and  none  knew  himself  better  —  that 
he  could  declare  with  Adam  in  "  As  You  Like  It,"  — 

*'  In  my  youth  I  never  did  apply 

IIol  and  relK'llious  liquors  in  my  blood, 
Therefore  my  age  is  as  a  lusty  winter, 
Frosty,  but  kindly  !  " 

This  frequent  and  favorite  quotation,  with  its  signifi- 
cantly omitted  lines,  ought  to  form  part  of  his  epitaph 
when  a  monument  is  erected  to  his  memory. 


WILLIAM   WARREN. 

By  Evelyn  Gkeenleak  Sutheki.ank  ("Dokcvihy  Lundt"). 


To  the  Boston  theatre-goer  whose  traditions  date 
back  into  the  yesterdays,  no  spell  is  more  potent  to 
summon  up  rich  and  bright  memories  than  the  name 
of  William  Warren.  It  is  a  name  inseparably  con- 
nected with  all  that  is  highest,  most  noteworthy,  most 
permanent,  in  the  dramatic  life  of  earlier  Boston  ;  indeed, 
one  may  almost,  with  justice,  omit  the  adjective  "dra- 
matic," since  the  distinguished,  thoroughly  individual 
personality  of  William  Warren  was  scarcely  less  the 
jjride  of  his  adopted  city,  than  were  his  inimitable 
impersonations  the  pride  of  its  famous  play-house. 
"Earlier  Boston"  is  a  phrase  which  writes  itself  in- 
voluntarily in  connection  with   Mr.  Warren. 

It  is  true  that  it  is  but  a  comparatively  few  years 
since  the  curtain  of  the  Boston  Museum  fell  for  the 
last  time  on  his  incomparable  work,  who,  for  upwards 
of  five  and  thirty  years,  had  lent  such  dignity  and  such 
brilliancy  to  its  stage  as  it  can  hardly  hope,  for  genera- 
tions to  come,  again  to  boast.  It  is  true  that  it  is 
even  less  time  since  that  honored  presence  passed  from 
the  streets  of  the  city  which  for  upwards  of  forty  years 
was  his  chosen  home.  None  the  less  it  is  with  earlier 
Boston   we   feel  William   Warren   to  be   most   closely 

178 


\VILLIAM    WAKKEN.  I  79 

identified,  both  in  his  personality  and  in  his  art.  Long 
before  he  left  the  stage,  he  was  distinguished  as  one 
of  its  lingering  few  exponents  of  the  older,  the  more 
classic,  dramatic  art ;  the  art  to  whose  making  went 
conscience,  culture,  unselfishness,  high  ideals,  arduous 
effort ;  the  art  whose  supreme  and  diametric  difference 
from  that  which  bears  its  name  to-day,  is  that  its  aim 
was  to  subordinate  the  artist's  personality  to  his  art, 
instead  of  fostering  and  blazoning  it  to  the  cost  of  his 
art. 

There  was,  too,  about  the  personality  of  Willian 
Warren,  about  his  very  form  and  carriage  as  he  moved 
along  the  city's  streets,  a  something  that  belonged 
to,  and  recalled,  an  earlier,  statelier  time,  and  this  in 
spite  of  his  scrupulous  avoidance  of  anything  like  the 
eccentric  or  the  conspicuous  in  manner  or  attire. 
Possibly  it  was  in  the  very  faulllcssness  of  these, 
their  never-failing  simplicity,  dignity,  appropriateness, 
that  the  suggested  distinction  lay.  Nothing  gave  Mr. 
Warren  keener  annoyance  than  any  hint  of  making 
the  actor's  profession  an  excuse  for  ill-breeding  or  dis- 
orderliness.  It  is  related  of  him  that  once,  when  a 
fellow-actor,  who  was  somewhat  notorious  for  lapses  in 
personal  neatness,  appeared  at  rehearsal  in  stained 
corduroys  and  crumjiled  collar,  unshorn,  and  odorous 
of  bad  tobacco,  Mr.  Warren  was  heard  to  murmur 
under  his  breath,  and  quite  unconscious  of  being  audi- 
ble, "Ah!  such  sights  make  one  blnsh  to  be  classed 
as  an  actor  !"  "  Ilis  manner  was  the  most  unaffectodlv 
elegant  and  distinguished  that  Hoston  has  known  since 
the  day  of  ICdward  Kverett,"  said  Mr.  Ilcnry  A. 
Clapp,  in  the  delightfully  sympathetic  study  of  the 
great  comedian  which  appeared  in  xhc  Af/ttiific  Monthly 


l8o         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO— DAY. 

shortly  after  his  death.  Mr.  Warren's  personality  and 
art  carried  with  them  an  atmosphere  as  of  old  vintage, 
full  of  rich,  clear,  definite  color,  of  mellowness,  of  body, 
of  ripe  sweetness. 

Boston  loves  to  claim  William  Warren  as  distinctively 
her  own  ;  and  must  be  proud  to  remember  that  he  was 
so  entirely  by  his  own  choice,  and  by  no  means  through 
any  limitation  of  necessity.  He  won  conspicuous  fa- 
vor in  other  cities,  before  Boston  called  him  to  herself; 
his  exquisite  art  met  with  warm  and  wide  appreciation 
during  the  single  season,  that  of  1 864-1 865,  that  he 
left  the  Museum  stage  for  a  starring  tour.  But  his 
tastes,  habits,  and  ideals  alike  made  the  rushing,  knock- 
about life  of  the  travelling  player,  with  its  thousand 
personal  inconveniences  and  its  absolute  want  of  leisure 
for  thought  and  study,  thoroughly  repugnant  to  him  ; 
and  when,  after  a  year's  wandering,  he  returned  to  the 
Boston  Museum  stage,  it  was  for  the  rest  of  his  pro- 
fessional life.  Referring  to  his  distaste  for  travel,  he 
said,  with  that  whimsical  humor  so  characteristic  of 
him,  "I  go  out  to  Chicago  nearly  every  summer  to 
visit  relations;  not  a  serious  journey  —  but  then,  the 
inconvenience!  Two  baths  won't  make  a  man  clean 
after  it ! " 

For  thirty-five  seasons  the  art  of  William  Warren 
was  identified  with  the  stage  of  the  Boston  Museum  ; 
his  first  appearance  there  being  made  on  the  23d  of 
August,  1847,  and  his  last  on  May  12,  1883;  and  his 
service  there  being  continuous,  with  the  exception  of 
the  one  season  referred  to,  that  of  1 864-1 865.  This 
is  not  the  place  to  hazard  a  guess  as  to  the  wisdom, 
so  far  as  an  actor's  lasting  fame  goes,  of  identification 
for  life  with  a  single  city  and  a  single  theatre.     "  Pos- 


WILLIAM    WARREN,  l8l 

sibly,"  said  the  Boston  Transcript,  in  its  affectionate 
and  appreciative  tribute  paid  to  the  great  actor  after 
his  death,  "we  had  had  so  much  of  Mr.  Warren  that 
we  had  lost  the  capacity  fully  to  appreciate  his  exqui- 
site art.  It  needed  an  occasional  comparison  of  his  mas- 
terly Sir  Peter  Teazle,  or  even  of  another  Peter,  whose 
surname  is  Pillicoddy,  with  the  bogus  comedy-work 
or  athletic  farce  characters  of  the  plays  which  have 
pushed  Sheridan  and  Madison  Morton  from  the  stage, 
—  there  was  required  some  such  comparison  to  dis- 
cover how  the  comedian's  art  was  dying  out,  how  buf- 
foonery was  taking  the  place  of  wit,  and  obstreperous, 
senseless  horse-play  that  of  clever  humor." 

If,  however,  familiarity  sometimes  dulled  the  edge 
of  artistic  appreciation,  it  never  did  that  of  personal 
affection.  No  man  lay  nearer  to  the  heart  of  Boston 
than  did  William  Warren.  That  he  himself  had  no 
regret  for  his  choice,  spoke  touchingly  and  convin- 
cingly in  his  brief  and  beautiful  speech  on  that  never- 
to-be-forgotten  night  of  his  "Golden  Jubilee,"  Oct.  28, 
1882.  "To  have  lived,"  he  said,  "in  this  city  of 
Boston,  happily,  for  more  than  five  and  thirty  years, 
engaged  in  so  good  and  successful  a  theatre  as  this, 
cheered  always  by  your  favor,  and  then  to  have  that 
residence  crowned  by  such  an  assemblage  as  I .  see 
before  me,  is  glory  enough  for  one  poor  player.  My 
humble  efforts  have  never  gained  for  me  any  of  the 
great  prizes  of  my  profession  until  now;  but,  failing 
to  reach  the  summit  of  Parnassus,  it  is  something  to 
have  found  so  snug  a  nook  in  the  mountain-side." 

Kven  accepting,  without  protest,  this  characteristic- 
ally modest  self-estimate,  we  must  recogni/.e  that  to  his 
"  nook  in  the  mountain-side  of  Parnassus  "  no  successor 


1 82         FAMOUS   AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

has  ever  climbed  ;  it  has  stood  empty  to  the  stars  since 
the  day  that  Boston's  greatest  actor  passed  to  — 

«' where  there  is  sunshine  every  day, 

Over  the  mountain  high." 

Like  so  many  who  have  attained  eminence  in  his 
craft,  William  Warren  came  of  player  race.  Many  of 
his  name  or  his  kin  have  been  famous  in  histrionic 
annals  ;  chief  among  them  well-beloved  Joseph  Jeffer- 
son, his  cousin  in  the  second  degree,  his  warm  friend 
always,  and  his  fellow  player  in  the  days  when  both 
were  young.  Mr.  Warren's  aunt  on  the  maternal  side, 
Euphemia  Jefferson,  ncc  Fortune,  was  the  grandmother 
of  the  famous  "  Rip  Van  Winkle."  Others  of  his 
kinsfolk  to  attain  theatric  fame  were  his  four  sisters  : 
Hester,  wife  of  Joseph  Proctor,  of  "  Nick  o'  the  Woods" 
fame,  and  herself  well  known  as  an  exponent  of  old 
English  comedy,  who  died  in  Boston  in  1841  ;  Anna, 
the  wife  of  the  well-known  Yankee  comedian,  Danforth 
or  "  Dan "  Marble,  who  played,  with  much  success, 
light  and  spirited  comedy  rolcSy  and  who  died  in  Cin- 
cinnati in  1872;  Emma,  wife  of  J.  B.  Price,  and  after- 
ward of  David  Hanchett,  long  a  favorite  actress  in 
many  cities  of  the  West,  and  at  one  time  a  member  of 
E.  L.  Davenport's  company,  at  the  Boston  Howard 
Athenaeum,  who  died  in  New  York  in  1879;  Mary 
Ann,  wife  of  John  B.  Rice,  who  won  much  favorable 
notice  as  an  interpreter  of  Shakespearian  and  other 
roles,  and  for  many  years  lived  in  retirement  from  pro- 
fessional life  at  Chicago,  where  her  famous  brother 
was  wont  to  pay  her  annual  summer  visits. 

More  celebrated  than  either  of  Mr.  Warren's  sisters, 
was   their  father  and  his,  William  Warren  the  elder. 


WILLIAM    WARREN.  1 83 

If,  as  science  makes  a  not  improbable  guess,  what  is 
experience  with  the  father  may  be  transmitted  as  intu- 
ition to  the  son,  we  have  in  the  varied  career  of  the 
elder  Warren,  with  its  vicissitudes,  triumphs,  and  fail- 
ures, some  explanation  of  his  son's  marvellously  sympa- 
thetic power  to  apprehend  and  reproduce  situations 
and  emotions  to  which  his  own  personality  and  life 
could  have  given  him  little  clew.  William  Warren 
senior  was  born  in  Bath,  England,  in  1767,  and  at  the 
age  of  seventeen  quitted  the  trade  to  which  he  had 
been  apprenticed,  to  follow  the  life  of  a  strolling  player. 
His  were  all  the  odd  experiences  which  attentlcd  such 
a  career  a  century  ago,  —  now  the  smiling  fortune  of 
applause  and  shillings,  a  warm  lodging,  a  comfortable 
pint  and  chop  ;  now  the  frowning  fortune  of  penniless- 
ness  and  supperlessness  and  arrest  for  vagabondage. 
Who  may  guess  what  instincts  and  comprehensions 
inherited  from  that  far  time  and  quickened  by  childhood 
tales  of  it,  stirred  in  our  great  comedian,  to  the  per- 
fecting of  some  of  his  inimitable  reproductions  of  vaga- 
bondage,—  the  Cheap  John  of  "  Flower  of  the  I^'orest," 
—  the  Micawber  of  "  Litle  Km'ly,"  the  lu'cles  of 
"  Caste  ".^  The  older  Warren  was  induced,  in  1796, 
to  try  his  fortunes  in  America ;  where  the  ups  and 
downs  of  luck  still  pursued  him,  and  his  standing 
shifted  from  that  of  a  highly  successful  actor  and  man- 
ager to  that  of  a  poverty-stricken  innkeejK'r;  from 
which  last  .sad  estate  death,  a  welcome  friend,  released 
him.  He  died  in  Baltimore  in  the  year  1832.  He  was 
three  times  married,  his  third  wife,  I^sther  I-'ortune, 
being  the  mother  of  his  famous  son.  A  rare  engraving, 
made  by  Edwin,  from  a  painting  by  Thomas  Sully  (prob- 
ably about    181 1),  shows  — 


184        FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF    TO-DAY. 

" a  face 

Filled  with  a  fine  old-fashioned  grace  ; 
Fresh-colored,  frank, " 

in  which  it  is  possible  to  trace  some  look  of  the  face  so 
long  familiar  to  us,  especially  in  the  broad  brow  and 
the  humorous,  kindly  eyes. 

William  Warren  the  younger  —  "Boston's  William 
Warren,"  as  he  was  well  content  to  be  known — was 
born  in  Philadelphia,  Nov.  17,  181 2.  He  was  destined 
for  a  commercial  career,  and  was  educated  —  an  admi- 
rable education,  in  which  was  laid  the  foundations  of 
the  cultivated  literary  tastes  and  broad,  unostentatious 
learning  of  his  later  years — in  the  common  schools  of 
Philadelphia,  and  later  at  the  Franklin  Institute  and  the 
Episcopal  Seminary  of  that  city.  When  he  was  twenty 
years  old,  his  father's  death,  leaving  the  family  in  the 
utmost  straits  of  poverty,  made  it  imperative  that  some 
immediately  lucrative  occupation  should  be  entered 
upon  by  the  son,  who  was  now  its  chief  support.  Cir- 
cumstances and  inherited  aptitude  pointed  to  a  dramatic 
career.  His  first  appearance  was  made  Oct.  27,  1832, 
at  the  Arch  Street  Theatre,  Philadelphia,  at  a  benefit 
given  to  the  family  by  his  father's  former  friends  and 
associates.  The  character  assumed  was  Young  Norval, 
in  John  Home's  tragedy  of  "  Douglas,"  by  a  coinci- 
dence exceedingly  odd,  even  if  intentional,  the  charac- 
ter in  which  his  father  had  made  his  debut,  in  England, 
nearly  half  a  century  before. 

His  success  was  indisputable,  his  progress  in  his 
chosen  profession  thenceforward  steady  and  assured. 
For  nearly  nine  years  he  led  the  life  of  a  strolling 
player,  appearing  in  many  cities  of  Pennsylvania  and 
the  West,  the  excellence  of  his  work  earning  an  ever 


WILLIAM    WARREN.  1 85 

more  marked  and  general  recognition.  His  peculiar 
adaptation  to  comic  roles  was  early  manifested,  and 
even  then  clearly  indicated  the  paths  in  which  he  was 
to  gather  such  enduring  laurels.  The  life  was  far  from 
an  easy  one;  the  long  journeys,  the  imperfect  methods 
of  travel,  the  anxieties  and  uncertainties  ;  the  never- 
ending,  arduous  labor  of  playing  a  great  variety  of 
characters  —  often  three  or  four  in  a  single  evening, 
"  doubling  "  being  an  inescapable  consequence  of  small 
companies  and  classic  dramas — and  playing  them  after 
the  dictates  of  a  sensitive  artistic  conscience  that  knew 
no  least  nor  greatest,  —  material  hardship  and  mental 
strain  were  the  lot  of  the  strolling  player  of  those  days, 
when  he  happened  to  be  a  William  Warren.     But  — 

"  Dans  un  grcnier  on  est  bicn, 
A  vingt  ans  —  a  vingt  ans!  " 

His  associates  were  gifted  and  congenial,  his  managers 
just  and  friendly,  youth  was  strong  within  him,  and 
his  work  was  his  delight.  Moreover,  in  these,  his 
"  wander-years,"  he  was  gaining  as  he  could  never 
elsewhere  have  done,  that  versatility  and  quickness, 
that  ease  and  plasticity,  which  were  so  porfectlv  to 
meet  the  strenuous  demands  of  his  maturer  artist-life. 
In  1 841  he  made  his  first  appearance  in  New  York, 
as  Grizzle,  in  "  My  Young  Wife  and  Old  Umbrella." 
For  the  four  following  years  he  played,  in  l^uffalo  and 
other  New  York  cities,  the  leading  comedy  parts  in 
a  company  of  which  his  brother-in-law,  J.  H.  Rice,  was 
the  head.  In  1845  he  took  a  brief  pleasure-trip  to 
Kngland,  and  while  there  made  a  single  professional 
appearance,  as  Con  Gormley,  in  "The  Vermont  Wool 
Dealer,"  the  occasion  being  the  benefit  of  Mrs.  Cole- 


1 86  FAMOUS   AMERICAN   ACTORS   OF   TO-DAY. 

man  Pope,  and  the  place  the  Strand  Theatre,  Lon- 
don. 

Soon  after  his  return  to  America,  in  1846,  he  made 
his  first  appearance  in  Boston,  at  the  Hovvaid  Athe- 
naeum. The  play  was  "The  Rivals;"  the  date,  Oct. 
5,  1846.  Mr.  Warren  played  Sir  Lucius  OTrig-^^er; 
and,  before  the  curtain  had  fallen  on  that  red-letter 
night  of  Boston  dramatic  history,  there  was  established 
between  himself  and  a  Boston  audience  that  cordial 
good  understanding  which  was  to  last,  unchilled,  for 
six  and  thirty  years.  His  season  at  the  Howard  Athe- 
naeum covered  some  twenty  weeks,  during  which  he 
appeared  in  a  great  variety  of  parts,  including  Dog- 
berry, Dandie  Dinmont,  Jacques  Strop  in  "  Robert  Ma- 
caire,"  and  many  purely  farcical  roles,  in  each  new 
essay  strengthening  his  hold  on  the  admiration  and 
affection  of  his  audience. 

It  was  during  this  engagement  that  he  made  the 
daring  innovation  of  ridding  the  first  gravedigger  in 
"Hamlet,"  of  the  foolish  and  catch-grin  "business" 
which  tradition  had  long  fastened  upon  him,  of  remov- 
ing a  dozen  or  so  waistcoats  before  settling  to  his  work. 
It  was  verv  characteristic  of  the  great  comedian  to  let 
neither  the  authority  of  stage  tradition,  nor  the  risk  of 
unpopularity  with  the  galleries,  balked  of  their  ex- 
pected laugh,  sway  him  a  feather's  weight  from  his 
conscientious  carrying  out  of  the  intent  of  the  author 
whom  he  was  set  to  interpret.  That  little  incident 
struck  with  sure,  if  unconscious  hand,  the  key-note 
of  his  artistic  career.  Though  caring  heartily  for  ap- 
plause, —  as  what  right-hearted  worker  does  not  .-*  —  he 

" never  stooped 

To  pick  it  up,  in  all  his  days. 


WILLIAM    WARREN.  1 87 

His  artistic  conscience  was  quick  and  inexorable 
throughout  his  long  and  splendid  career.  To  have 
called  the  attention  of  the  audience  to  himself,  when 
the  character  he  impersonated  was  naturally  in  the 
background,  would  have  seemed  to  him  to  turn  traitor 
to  the  art  of  his  vowed  allegiance.  To  steal  the  sit- 
uation, the  smile,  the  "point,"  which  belonged  to  a 
fellow-player,  would  have  been  as  impossible  to  him  as 
to  steal  a  fellow-player's  purse.  So  should  it  be  with 
every  actor  who  would  sign  himself  artist  and  gentle- 
man.    So  is  it,  in  this  our  day,  with,  alas  !  how  few. 

On  the  27th  of  February,  1847,  ^^r.  Warren  made 
his  last  appearance  at  the  Howard  Athenaeum.  On 
the  23d  of  the  following  August,  he  made  his  debut 
at  the  Boston  Museum,  then  in  its  fifth  season.  The 
plays  were  "Sweethearts  and  Wives"  and  "My  Young 
Wife  and  Old  Umbrella  ; "  the  characters  assumed, 
Billy  Lackaday  and  Gregory  Grizzle.  The  recognition, 
by  press  and  public,  of  his  fitness  to  succeed  that  admi- 
rable player,  Mr.  Charles  W.  Hunt,  for  several  seasons 
leading  comedian  at  the  Museum,  was  cordial  and  un- 
qualified. Thenceforward,  for  five  and  thirty  years,  — 
barring  the  sinjrle  starring  season  to  which  allusion  has 
several  times  been  made,  —  his  name  was  identified 
with  that  of  Boston's  favorite  and  famous  play-house. 
His  work  there  has  set  the  brightest  jewel  in  the 
crown  of  Boston  dramatic  tradition.  His  work  there 
established  a  "  terrible  standartl  of  enjoyment,"  for 
those  whose  unspeakable  good  fortune  it  was  to  watch 
him  realize  for  them  the  ideals  of,  not  one,  l)ut  scores, 
of  their  friends  of  old  romance.  Ills  work  there  made 
the  Museum  one  of  the  theatrical  Meccas  of  America, 
drawing  thither,  from  far  and  near,  lovers  of  all  that 


1 88  FAMOUS   AMERICAN   ACIORS   OF   TO-DAY. 

is  subtlest,  highest,  truest,  and  finest  in  the  noble  art 
of  the  player.  In  the  years  of  his  work  there,  he  made 
thirteen  thousand  three  hundred  and  forty-five  appear- 
ances, and  assumed  the  phenomenal  number  of  five 
hundred  and  seventy-seven  parts. 

In  our  day,  —  whose  dawn  was  all  too  clear  before 
Mr.  Warren  bade  farewell  to  the  stage  !  —  few  actors 
accept  a  "  part ; "  they  strive  to  be  the  whole  ;  they  no 
longer  assume  characters  created  by  a  dramatist  ;  they 
call  upon  the  dramatist  to  build  around  the  character 
with  which  nature  has  personally  gifted  themselves. 
William  Warren  belonged  to  and  magnificently  exem- 
plified that  school  of  art  which  counted  as  failure  the 
inability  of  an  actor  to  lose  his  individuality  in  the 
character  assumed.  How  he  lost  himself,  how  he  gave 
to  us,  flawless,  living,  rounded,  and  complete,  the  reali- 
zation of  a  youth-time  of  ideals,  let  a  hundred  thronging 
memories  bear  witness.  The  unceasing  work,  the  un- 
tiring patience,  the  sensitive  .sympathy,  the  keen  intel- 
ligence, that  combined  to  accomplish  such  a  result,  few 
standards  or  achievements  of  to-day  can  help  us  to 
realize.  He  gave  us,  finished  to  the  finger-tips,  to  the 
last  intonation,  to  the  last  detail  of  costume,  to  the  last 
queer  turn  of  dialect,  not  only  an  infinite  variety  of 
types,  but  an  infinite  variety  in  those  types. 

How  many  Scotchmen  have  decently  restrained  their 
delight  over  the  sober  truth  of  his  Baillie  Nichol  Jarvie, 
his  Caleb  Balderstonc,  his  David  Deans  !  How  many 
Irishmen  have  vociferously  shouted  their  delight  over 
the  unctuous  perfection  of  his  Denis  O'Rourke,  or  paid 
more  eloquent  tribute  of  tear-dimmed  silence  to  the 
exquisite  tenderness  and  lofty  dignity  of  his  Father 
Doolan  !     How  many  Frenchmen  have  watched,  with 


WILLIAM   WARREN.  1 89 

keen  and  thorough  appreciation,  the  Gallic  finish  and 
fineness  of  his  Baron  de  Cambri,  his  Papa  Perrichon, 
the  searching  pathos  of  his  Jacques  P'auvel  and  Mon- 
sieur Tourbillon  !  While  Yankeedom  endures,  where 
will  the  typical  Yankee  see  the  mirror  so  held  up  to 
nature  as  in  Warren's  Enos  Crumlett,  his  Jefferson 
Scattering  Batkins,  his  Salem  Scudder,  and  his  Silas 
Jorgan  !  The  riches  of  old  English  comedy  are  poor, 
lacking  his  interpretations  —  of  atmosphere  how  rich 
and  stately,  how  mellow  and  how  human!  —  of  Sir  Peter 
Teazle,  of  Dr.  Primrose,  of  Bob  Acres  and  Dr.  Pan- 
gloss,  and  Sir  Harcourt  Courtly  and  Jesse  Rural  — 
"that  model  for  the  thousand  commonplace  ministers 
of  actual  life!"  daringly  and  truly  wrote  George  Woods 
nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago.  Old  English  farce 
died  with  him  ;  that  stalwart,  red-blooded,  old-time  sort 
of  fun-making.  Rabelaisian  a  bit  sometimes  perhaps, 
but,  at  its  worst,  guilty  of  virile  coarsenesses  which  are 
cleanness  itself  compared  to  the  simian  indecencies  of 
suggestion  in  much  that  has  taken  its  place.  Shake- 
spearian students  of  our  day  will  hardly  hope  to  see 
again  such  impersonations  as  his  Dogberry,  his  Touch- 
stone, his  Earl  of  Kent  (in  "  Lear " ),  his  Polonius, 
his  Lord  Mayor  (in  "Richard  III.").  Dickens-lovers 
cherish  as  possessions  beyond  price  their  memories  of 
his  Captain  Cuttle  and  his  Micawber,  his  lioffin,  his 
Joe  Gargery  and  John  Browdie,  his  Beadle  Bumble  and 
Josiah  l^ounderby.  And  who  will  forget,  or  remember 
with  unmisted  eyes,  the  unmatchable  quaintness,  the 
inexhaustible  humor,  the  infinite  sweetness  and  tender- 
ness and  lovableness,  of  his  Dominie  Sampson  ! 

So  one  might  go  on  for  pages  without  end,  recall- 
ing, with  a  wonder  and  appreciation  which  grow  with 


190  FAMOUS  AMERICAN  ACTORS  OF  TO-DAY. 

every  day  that  parts  us  from  the  days  when  all  these 
things  were  so  simply  and  easily  done  that  we  could 
not  realize  what  genius  went  to  their  doing,  what 
things  these  were  to  do.  **  Always  knowing  and  pre- 
ferring the  best,"  says  Mr.  Clapp,  in  the  fine  essay 
already  referred  to,  "from  the  beginning  to  the  end 
of  his  career  he  embodied  the  spirit  of  the  true  histri- 
onic artist,  whose  concern  for  himself  and  his  audience 
is  habitually  subordinated  to  a  reverent  concern  for  his 
art." 

In  such  achievement  the  long  years  sped  away,  and 
brought  him  at  last  to  the  golden  day  of  his  semi-cen- 
tennial jubilee,  Oct.  28,  1882.  His  picture,  painted  by 
Vinton,  and  so  true  to  the  original, — the  massive, 
stately  figure,  the  thoughtful  eyes,  a  little  grave  and 
weary,  the  mouth  with  its  virile  strength,  and  its  whim- 
sical humorous  sweetness,  —  stood  in  the  Museum 
lobby,  all  garlanded  with  flowers  and  laurel-leaves. 
Twice  that  day  the  theatre  was  crowded  to  its  utmost 
capacity  ;  and  what  manner  of  greeting  was  given 
him  by  that  throng  when,  once  as  Dr.  Pangloss  and 
once  as  Sir  Peter  Teazle,  he  stood  before  them,  the 
heart  grows  big  and  the  throat  grows  thick,  merely  to 
recall.  Gifts  of  flowers  and  gifts  of  laurel,  gifts  of  sil- 
ver and  of  gold,  gifts  of  loving  words  from  the  wide 
world  over,  and  gifts  of  earnest  and  noble  verse  from  a 
poet,  the  glowing  words  of  whose  song  were  as  sweet 
as  flowers  and  rang  like  silver,  —  these  things,  and 
many  another,  crowned  his  gentle  life's  jubilee-day. 

It  was  like  him,  when  that  jubilee-day  was  over,  to 
take  up  again  the  practice  of  his  profession,  with  all 
the  old  earnestness  of  effort,  the  old  modesty  and  sim- 
plicity and  faithfulness.     It  was  like  him  that  when,  at 


WILLIAM    WARREN.  I9I 

the  end  of  the  season,  the  Boston  Museum  curtain  fell, 
May  12,  1885,  on  his  last  performance  on  any  stage,  few 
knew  it  to  be  such.  It  would  have  been  pleasant  to 
think  that  it  fell  upon  him  as  Sir  Peter  Teazle,  glad  in 
the  new-born  reverence  and  affection  of  his  young 
wife  ;  or  as  Dominie  Sampson,  folded  in  the  shelter- 
ing love  of  friends  and  pupils.  But  his  last  perform- 
ance was  that  of  Old  Eccles,  in  "  Caste."  Perhaps 
it  was  fitter  so  ;  he  left  the  stage,  as  he  had  graced 
it,  in  the  simple  and  thorough  doing  of  the  duty  set 
him  to  do. 

Mr.  Warren  never  married.  If  the  memory  of  those 
who  knew  his  youth  recalls  one  single,  gentle,  sorrow- 
ful romance,  the  sacredness  with  which  he  guarded 
that  heart-secret  is  its  safeguard  still.  For  forty  years 
his  home  was  in  a  quaint,  old-fashioned  house  in  a 
quaint,  old-fashioned  thoroughfare  —  or  rather  no-thor- 
oughfare—  of  the  West  End,  on  Bulfinch  Place.  He 
was  the  first  boarder  to  whom  its  hospitable,  and  later 
so  famous,  door  was  ever  opened.  His  hostess  and 
lifelong,  honored  friend  was  Miss  Amelia  P'isher,  her- 
self once  connected  with  the  profession  he  adorned. 
In  this  tranquil  home,  surrounded  with  old  friends  and 
loved  books,  taking  daily  his  long  accustomed  walks 
through  the  familiar  streets  where  every  face  he  met 
was  the  face  of  a  friend,  he  passed  the  five  years 
between  his  leaving  the  stage  and  his  peaceful  tleath, 
Sept.  21,  1888.  His  funeral  services  were  held  at 
Trinity  Church.  As  on  his  jubilee-day,  all  Boston 
came  to  do  him  honor,  with  flowers  and  laurels  ;  but 
the  songs  were  mute,  and  the  cheers  were  changed 
to  tears. 

The  life  of  the  artist  and  of  the  man  was  one;  those 


192 


FAMOUS   AMERICAN   ACTORS   OF   TO-DAY. 


who  honored  the  artist  met  nothing  in  the  man  to 
excuse  or  to  forget.  Unselfish,  sweetly  courteous, 
unfailing  in  his  consideration  for  others,  modest,  unos- 
tentatious in  his  large  learning  and  brilliant  wit,  he, 
his  gentle  life  through, 

" bore,   without  reproach, 

The  grand  old  name  of  gentleman." 

To  a  few  privileged  souls,  the  name  of  William  Warren 
is  inseparably  connected  with  the  noctcs  avibrosiiDice 
in  that  quaint  old  kitchen  in  Bulfinch  Place,  with  its 
low  ceiling,  and  its  dresser  laden  with  polished  tin  and 
gayly-fiowered  china,  where,  after  the  theatre  was  over, 
the  wide  table  was  spread  with  a  right  English  supper- 
weight  of  good  cheer,  and  at  the  head  of  the  table  sat 
the  great  actor.  What  a  wealth  of  wise  opinion,  of 
merry  tales,  of  brilliant  epigram,  of  unflagging,  sunny 
humor,  those  favored  guests  enjoyed,  let  some  of  them 
bear  witness  :  Joseph  Jefferson,  whose  mellow  laugh 
made  music  in  the  tobacco-misted  air  ;  Henry  Irving, 
passing  out  of  the  hospitable  door  to  find  the  dawn- 
light  waxing  strong,  and  protesting,  with  a  smile  and  a 
shiver,  "And  yet  they  say  we  players  are  never  out  of 
bed  early!" 

Tout  passe  ;   tout  casse. 

His  face  no  more,  even  in  presentment  of  canvas  or 
of  marble,  looks  benignly  down  upon  the  throngs  pass- 
ing into  the  old  theatre,  where  no  such  work  as  his 
shall  gladden  them  for  generations  to  come.  In  the 
chimney-corner  of  the  old  Bulfinch  Place  kitchen,  his 
arm-chair  stands  untenanted ;  and  on  the  shelf,  un- 
touched since  his  last  use  of  them,  are  his  bright-flow- 


WILLIAM   WARREN.  1 93 

ered  cup  and  porridge-bowl.  To  some  griefs  there  is 
no  yesterday  and  no  to-morrow ;  and  such  a  grief  sol- 
emnizes the  atmosphere  of  the  old  house  so  long  his 
home. 

"  A  life-part,  staidly  sweet  and  simply  strong, 
As  any  the  dead  player  showed  the  throng, 
Hath  found  its  close." 


MRS.   VINCENT. 

Bv  George  P.  Baker. 


Mrs.  Vincent.  What  memories  that  name  summons 
for  the  Bostonian  !  Many  a  man  in  middle  life  to-day 
associates  with  it  his  first  glimpse  into  the  fairy-land 
of  the  theatre.  For  days  he  had  dreamed  of  the  won- 
ders in  the  cases  that  used  to  line  the  corridors  of  the 
Boston  Museum.  How  clearly  he  recalls  his  excite- 
ment all  the  morning  before  the  vtathiee.  That  after- 
noon the  stuffed  animals,  the  wax  figures,  the  statuary, 
Gulliver  and  his  Lilliputian  tormentors  carved  in  wood, 
—  all  the  fancies  of  his  dreams  became  realities.  Long- 
ing to  linger,  yet  fearing  that  he  should  but  lose  some- 
thing better  in  the  next  case,  he  hurried  to  and  fro. 
The  sight-seeing  over,  there  was  the  waiting  in  the 
theatre,  with  its  heated,  palpitating  air,  its  expectation. 
It  was  hard  to  keep  still  while  the  music  played  !  Did 
the  curtain  move  "i  Yes,  yes,  it  did ;  and  there  was 
Mrs.  Vincent,  with  her  cheery  face,  and  funny  little 
movements  of  the  head.  How  the  child  laughed  ! 
Never  had  any  one  been  so  funny  as  was  Mrs.  Vin- 
cent in  "  Poor  Pillicoddy." 

Many  a  Bostonian  beginning  with  a  memory  like  this, 
looks  back  to-day  on  afternoon  after  afternoon,  evening 
after  evening,  when  William  Warren  and  Mrs.  Vincent 

194 


MRS.  VINCENT. 


MRS.  VINCENT.  1 95 

moved  him  to  tears  or  laughter.  A  lad,  he  remembers 
them;  a  jaded  business  man,  seeking  an  hour  or  two 
of  relief  from  care,  he  recalls  their  acting ;  he  has 
watched  his  own  children,  now,  laugh  at  "The  dear  old 
lady,"  declaring  that  there  can  be  no  one  like  her.  For 
over  thirty  years  Mrs.  Vincent  acted  at  the  Boston 
Museum  ;  during  nearly  all  that  time,  as  actress  and  as 
woman,  she  was  dear  to  Bostonians. 

The  story  of  her  life  is  simple.  Mary  Ann  Farlin 
was  born  at  Portsmouth,  England,  Sept.  18,  1818.  Her 
father,  an  Irishman,  held  a  good  position  in  the  navy 
department  of  England.  The  father  and  the  mother  of 
the  girl  died  young,  leaving  her,  with  a  brother,  to  the 
care  of  a  relative.  The  girl  had  a  natural  fondness  for 
the  stage,  and  at  sixteen  she  made  her  first  appearance 
as  an  actress.  She  played  Lucy  in  "  The  Review,"  at 
Cowes,  Isle  of  Wight,  making  a  success. 

In  the  fall  of  1835  she  married  Mr.  J.  R.  Vincent. 
For  the  ne.xt  three  years  the  husband  and  the  wife 
acted  in  Ireland  and  throughout  England.  During  this 
time  Mrs.  Vincent,  as  one  of  her  biographers  has  said, 
"played  every  line  of  business  known  to  the  profes- 
sion." For  two  years  more  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Vincent 
travelled  through  England,  giving  an  entertainment 
that  had  been  arranged  for  them.  Later  they  acted 
in  Ireland,  and  then  for  two  years  in  Liverpool. 

In  1846  they  accepted  an  offer  from  William  Pelbv, 
manager  of  the  old  National  Theatre,  Boston,  to  play 
stock  parts  in  that  city.  On  Wednesday,  Nov.  11, 
1846,  they  made  their  first  appearance  in  America 
in  a  comedietta,  following  the  main  j^lay  of  the  even- 
ing. It  was  Buckstone's  "  Popping  the  Question." 
Here  is  the  cast:  — 


196        FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF    TO-DAY. 

Mr.  Primrose Mr.  J.  R.  Vincent. 

Miss  Biffin Afrs.  J.  N.  Vincent. 

Henry  Thornton Mr.Kcach. 

Mrs.  Winterblossom Mrs.  Kinlock. 

Ellen  Murray Mrs.  Altemus. 

Bobbin Miss  Mestaycr. 

Probably  few  who  that  night  listened  to  the  bicker- 
ings of  Mis.s  Biffin  and  Mrs.  Winterblossom  dreamed 
that  the  young  woman  of  twenty-seven  who  played  the 
first  old  maid  would  be  for  thirty  years  the  favorite  of 
Boston  theatre-goers. 

From  1846  until  the  burning  of  the  theatre,  April 
22,  1852,  Mrs.  Vincent,  with  the  exception  of  a  sliort 
period  for  mourning  after  her  husband's  death  in  1850, 
acted  steadily  at  this  theatre. 

After  the  destruction  of  the  theatre,  the  company 
played  for  a  short  time  at  the  old  Federal  Street  The- 
atre. On  May  10,  1852,  however,  Mrs.  Vincent  ap- 
peared again  at  the  Museum  as  Mrs.  Pontifex  in 
"  Naval  Engagements."  From  this  date  until  her 
death,  in  the  fall  of  1887,  she  was  absent  from  the 
Museum  but  one  year.  In  1 861-1862  she  was  at  the 
Holliday  Street  Theatre,  Baltimore,  and  the  Washing- 
ton Theatre.  All  these  years  were  full  of  labor  in 
presenting  the  almost  innumerable  parts  of  the  old 
stock  companies.  Still  Mrs.  Vincent  found  time  for 
other  duties.  For  some  years  she  was  a  costumer  as 
well  as  an  actress. 

In  1853  she  married  Mr.  John  Wilson,  afterwards  a 
member  of  the  Museum  company.  The  marriage  was 
not  happy.     Mr.  Wilson  died  in  1881. 

Certainly  this  was  an  uneventful  life  in  the  sense 
of  dramatic  episodes.  If,  however,  acting  almost  in- 
numerable roles,  creating  many  parts  that  live  in  her 


MRS.  VINCENT.  1 97 

conceptions  of  them,  producing  among  Bostonians 
the  feeling  that  she  was  not  only  a  clever  actress, 
but  a  lovable,  large-hearted  woman,  —  if  these  mean 
anything,  the  years  held  much.  When  one  hears  that 
during  her  life  Mrs.  Vincent  acted  in  several  hundred 
different  parts,  one  realizes  that  an  actress  of  the 
old  school  of  stock  companies  is  before  one.  Adapt- 
ability to  the  needs  of  the  moment  characterized  the 
old  actors,  —  the  Farrens,  Buckstone,  Gilbert,  and 
Warren.  It  is  distinctly  to  this  school  that  Mrs. 
Vincent  belonged.  Trained  in  the  farces  and  the  com- 
edies of  fifty  years  ago,  she  had  the  quietly  humorous 
methods  that  we  associate  with  Gilbert  and  with  Jeffer- 
son, not  the  uproariousness  of  the  athletic  comedians 
of  to-<lay.  She  knew  nothing  of  the  cheap  methods 
that  to-day  make  the  touch  of  some  of  the  younger 
actors  in  our  old  comedy  seem  almost  sacrilege.  These 
old  actors  were  all  the  more  irresistible,  because  they 
never  took  the  audience  into  their  work,  never  played 
over  the  footlights.  The  absence  of  stage  tricks,  the 
absorption  in  their  parts  of  these  men  and  women, 
made  their  humor  finer,  richer,  than  that  of  most  of 
our  actors.  This  does  not  mean  that  Mrs.  Vincent 
could  not  romp  if  the  part  demanded  it.  Whoever  saw 
her  as  Sarah  in  "  Poor  Pillicoddy,"  or,  even  in  her  last 
days,  in  "The  Private  Secretary,"  knows  that  she  un- 
derstood farce  thoroughly.  Iler  fun,  however,  was 
never  physical.  It  came  from  the  brain,  from  her 
keen  appreciation  of  the  part  and  of  the  situation-s. 
The  round,  jolly  figure,  the  cheery  face,  the  trijiping 
walk,  the  odd,  gasping  little  voice,  were  instinct  with 
fun.  The  moment  she  appeared,  the  audience  smiled  ; 
when  she  spoke,  they  shouted. 


198        FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS   OF   TO-DAV. 

How  irresistible  was  her  look  of  helpless  bewilder- 
ment, the  doubt  that  means  tears  if  it  is  not  at  once 
cleared  away  !  How  wonderful  were  her  coiffures  and 
her  dresses!  When  one  remembers  them,  one  is  not 
surprised  to  hear  that  she  spent  hours  in  devising  them, 
was  never  happier  than  when  planning  them.  Often 
on  Saturdays  she  stayed  in  her  dressing-room  between 
the  matinee  and  the  evening  performance,  studying 
before  her  mirror  the  remarkable  coiffures  that  helped 
her  merry  entrance  in  some  farce,*  or  added  to  the 
amusing  stateliness  of  her  Mrs.  Malaprop  or  Mrs.  Can- 
dour. Who  that  has  seen  these  costumes,  with  their 
strings  of  pearls,  their  furbelows,  their  absurd  combi- 
nations of  color,  can  forget  them  } 

As  a  theatre-goer  looks  back  at  the  three  kinds  of 
work  with  which  Mrs.  Vincent  was  closely  associated, 
he  feels  that  a  keen  sense  of  fun  and  naturalness  were 
her  chief  characteristics.  If  a  reader  has  seen  her 
in  any  of  the  Madison  Morton  farces,  he  knows  how 
thoroughly  she  entered  into  the  spirit  of  these  impos- 
sible, delightful  creatures.  She  was  so  irresistibly 
funny  that  she  made  one  forget  that  these  people 
could  not  have  lived. 

Who  that  has  seen  her  play  Mrs.  Candour  can  for- 
get the  gossip  scene,  does  not  see  again  the  lazily, 
affectedly  moving  fan,  and  hear  the  gaspingly  unctuous, 
"  And  they  do  say,"  with  its  attendant  bit  of  scandal. 
Remembering  how  irresistible  was  her  Mrs.  Malaprop, 
one  does  not  wonder  that  Mr,  Howells  once  wrote  her 
that  it  was  a  pity  Sheridan  could  not  have  lived  to  see 
her  in  the  part. 

In  a  third  set  of  characters,  too,  the  lover  of  the 
stage   likes    to    remember    Mrs.   Vincent,  —  in    Bouci- 


MRS.  VINCENT.  1 99 

cault's  plays.  Dialect  she  had  mastered.  She  never 
lapsed  into  her  own  speech  ;  she  never  made  one  feel 
the  actor  behind  the  words.  Her  early  training  in  Eng- 
land made  Yorkshire  and  the  burring  dialects  easy  for 
her ;  her  Irish  was  delightful.  Dion  Boucicault  liked 
her,  and  when  the  two  played  together  at  the  Museum 
it  was  a  treat.  The  unctuous  humor  of  Conn  was  just 
the  spur  for  Mrs.  Vincent  ;  there  seemed  to  be  new 
slyness  in  her  own  fun  ;  if  possible  she  was  more  than 
usually  ridiculous.  Did  ever  more  amusing  old  souls 
exist,  with  their  flattery  and  their  soft  burr,  than  the 
mothers  of  Eily  O'Connor  and  Conn.  The  writer  can 
see  now  the  plump  little  figure  of  Mrs.  Vincent,  as 
Mrs.  O'Connor,  when,  wild  with  excitement,  she  first 
trips  upon  the  stage  from  her  cottage.  A  tiny  checked 
shawl  flutters  about  the  neck,  the  round  face  is  strug- 
gling with  a  half-dozen  expressions,  and  in  the  excite- 
ment the  hot  water  from  the  kettle  goes  right  and  left 
over  the  stage.  Now  that  both  Boucicault  and  Mrs. 
Vincent  are  dead,  the  theatre-goer  looks  back  and 
sighs  :  "  Ah,  those  days  !  When  shall  we  have  again 
that  same  delightful,  quiet  humor,  free  from  all  coarse- 
ness, all  uproar iousness,  all  horse-play  ?  " 

What  a  hearer  felt,  above  all,  in  Mrs.  Vincent's  acting 
was  her  intelligence.  She  caught  a  writer's  ideas  very 
quickly,  she  developed  her  ideas  readily.  Her  judg- 
ment of  the  acting  qualities  of  a  play  was  excellent. 
She  was,  too,  careful  in  her  methods,  constantly  add- 
ing to  and  making  over  her  parts.  If  an  inspiration 
gave  her  a  new  reading,  some  successful  gesture,  it  at 
once  became  a  part  of  her  work.  Her  memory  for 
these  details  was  very  remarkable  ;  it  took  her  but  a 
short  time  to  recall  her  old  lines;  and  at  a  rehearsal 


200         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

of  an  old  play  Mrs.  Vincent  was  very  helpful.  Now 
she  gave  a  needed  cue  ;  now  she  suggested,  ni  a 
kindly,  helpful  way,  some  bit  of  stage  business  to  a 
person  newer  to  the  stage. 

This  kindliness  was  her  chief  characteristic  as  a 
woman,  and  it  is  impossible  for  any  Bostonian  to  sepa- 
rate the  actress  from  the  woman.  When  one  knows 
of  her  countless  deeds  of  charity  to  the  poor  of  her 
city,  of  her  assistance  to  actors  in  need,  her  sensitive 
care  for  all  dumb  animals,  her  constant  cheerfulness 
and  readiness  to  help,  one  sees  why  it  is  that  to  Bos- 
tonians  she  is  "The  dear  old  lady." 

Pets  she  had  constantly  about  her  in  her  little  home 
on  Charles  Street,  and  in  her  final  illness  her  last 
words  were  about  their  care.  Her  friends  tell  how 
Mrs.  Vincent  once  kept  the  stage  waiting  for  some 
time  because  on  her  way  to  the  theatre,  she  stopped  to 
expostulate  with  a  brutal  teamster.  Agitated,  breath- 
less, but  triumphant,  she  at  last  appeared  among  the 
anxious  actors. 

She  had  always,  too,  a  little  fund  upon  which  she 
drew  for  actors  in  need.  This  she  named  for  Sothern, 
who  once  gave  her  some  money  for  this  purpose.  She 
always  kept  the  fund  at  the  amount  given  her,  and  held 
it  ready  for  all  actors  in  need.  But  it  was  above  all  to 
the  poor  of  the  city  that  Mrs.  Vincent  did  good.  How 
many  have  to  thank  her  for  care  and  tenderness ! 

Many  actors  had  other  causes  than  charity  for  think- 
ing tenderly  of  her.  To  Miss  Annie  Clarke  she  was 
always  "  Your  loving  godmother."  To  hear  the  younger 
actress  speak  of  the  older  is  to  feel  the  warmth  of 
their  friendship.  Many  debutantes  had  cause  to  love 
her.     They  were  her  special  care.     The  writer  remem- 


MRS.  VINCENT.  20I 

bers  well  her  kindness  to  Miss  Nina  Boucicault  when, 
some  years  ago,  she  made  her  debut  in  Boston.  She 
had  to  sing,  as  Eily  O'Connor,  "The  Pretty  Maid  Milk- 
ing Her  Cow;"  and,  as  she  sang,  her  timidity  almost 
overcame  her.  The  audience  saw  the  difficulty,  were 
kind,  and  called  loudly  for  an  encore.  Miss  Boucicault 
evidently  was  too  proud  to  take  the  encore  that  she 
felt  was  largely  called  for  in  pure  kindness.  Half- 
shrinking  from  the  growing  applause,  she  stood  shyly 
at  the  back  of  the  stage.  The  situation  was  growing 
embarrassing ;  for  all  eyes  were  upon  the  lieb/tiaute, 
who  scarcely  seemed  to  know  what  to  do.  Suddenly 
Mrs.  Vincent,  still  half  in  the  character  of  Danny 
Mann's  mother,  swept  down  the  stage  with  a  half- 
petulant  gesture,  and  with  one  arm  about  the  girl 
drew  her  to  the  footlights.  Then  she  nodded  with 
approval  to  the  loudly  applauding  audience,  spoke  an 
encouraging  word  to  the  girl,  and  stood  aside.  Miss 
Boucicault  took  courage,  sang  her  song  finely,  and  re- 
ceived a  burst  of  aj^plause  that  was  genuine  enough. 
With  a  motherly  pat  of  approval  for  the  girl,  and  a 
half-mocking  courtesy  to  the  audience,  Mrs.  Vincent 
went  back  into  her  part,  and  the  play  went  on.  A 
threatened  failure  had  been  turned  into  a  succes.s. 

Her  influence,  from  all  these  characteristics,  was  very 
great.  She  was  modest  about  all  her  doings,  but  her 
kindliness  and  cheeriness  could  not  conceal  themselves. 
For  these  the  people  loved  her.  When  she  was  in  Bal- 
timore in  1 861-1862,  the  .soldier-boys  from  New  Kng- 
land,  the  Harvard  lads  who  had  known  her  when  she 
had  dressed  them  for  Pudding  and  Dickey  theatricals, 
the  older  men  to  whom  she  brought  thoughts  of  after- 
noons with  their  delighted  children,  gave  her  an  ova- 


202         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

tion  as  they  passed  through  the  city.  Nor  was  she 
idle,   for   she    labored    hard  for  the  sick  soldiers. 

Old  and  young  cared  for  her  in  her  adopted  city. 
When  the  little  figure  entered  a  horse-car,  there  were 
pleasant  nods  and  words  from  all  sides.  Her  humor 
and  firmness  in  her  opinions,  too,  won  her  friends. 
She  was  once  in  a  Tremont  Street  car,  when  a  gentle- 
man gave  up  his  scat  to  a  rather  flashily  dressed 
woman,  who  failed  to  thank  him.  For  a  moment  con- 
flicting expressions  played  on  Mrs.  Vincent's  face  as 
she  gazed  at  the  woman  ;  then,  leaning  forward,  she 
said  half  apologetically,  in  the  familiar,  gasping  voice, 
"  Sir,  I  thank  you  in  behalf  of  my  sex." 

It  is  not  surprising  that  all  this  widespread  respect 
and  affection  made  Mrs.  Vincent's  fiftieth  anniversary 
as  an  actress,  April  25,  1885,  a  day  to  be  remembered 
bv  theatre-goers.  The  programme  in  the  afternoon 
was  "  She  Stoops  to  Conquer,"  Mrs.  Vincent  playing 
Mrs.  Hardcastlc.  In  the  evening  the  play  was  "The 
Rivals,"  with  Mrs.  Vincent  as  Mrs.  Malaprop.  On 
this  day  all  Mrs.  Vincent's  friends,  inside  and  outside 
the  theatre,  joined  to  do  her  honor.  At  the  end  of 
the  evening  performance  she  received  an  ovation.  She 
was  much  moved  by  the  kindness,  but,  stepping  for- 
ward simply,  she  told  in  a  few  well-chosen  words  her 
deep  pleasure. 

The  day  was  in  a  sense  the  culmination  of  her 
career;  yet  the  idol  of  the  theatre-goers,  honored  by 
the  people  of  her  city,  the  kindly  soul  lived  on  until 
the  fall  of  1887.  She  began  the  season  in  "The  Domi- 
nie's Daughter."  She  was  taken  ill  at  the  theatre  on 
Wednesday,  seemed  better  next  day,  but  died  on  Sun- 
day morning,  Sept.  4,  1887. 


MRS.  VINCENT.  203 

Often  it  is  the  lot  of  an  actor  to  be  admired  in  life, 
and  at  once  forgotten  in  death ;  but  such  was  not  this 
woman's  fate.  It  was  touching  to  see  the  poor  people 
about  the  doors  of  St.  Paul's  watching  for  a  sight  of 
the  bier.  It  was  significant  to  note  the  famous  men 
and  women  who  followed  her  coffin  from  the  door. 
Nor  did  the  respect  cease  here.  During  later  years 
the  people  of  St.  Paul's,  her  church,  and  of  Trinity, 
gathered  money  by  fairs  and  by  subscriptions  for  a 
memorial  to  the  actress;  and  to-day  the  Vincent  Hos- 
pital on  Chambers  Street  gives  daily  help  to  the  poor 
of  that  district.  It  is  a  memorial  to  a  woman  whose 
cheeriness  in  trouble,  universal  kindliness,  and  loving 
service  for  the  public  for  fifty  years,  made  her  re- 
spected and  loved  as  few  are. 

It  is  hard  even  now  to  realize  that  she  is  gone.  To 
many  of  us,  Mrs.  Hardcastle,  Mrs.  Malaprop,  a  dozen 
parts,  live  in  her  voice  and  in  her  gestures.  Pen  can- 
not paint  them.  It  is  powerless  to  make  a  reader 
feel  her  humor,  her  charm  of  manner  and  of  method. 
Perhaps  it  can  make  a  reader  see  the  woman.  If  so, 
that  is  best,  for  after  all  it  was  the  woman  whom  we 
loved. 


CHARLES     FISHER. 

By  Laurence  IIutton. 


One  of  the  most  charming  bits  of  character-acting 
our  stage  has  seen,  certainly  in  many  generations,  was 
the  Triplet  of  Charles  Fisher  in  "  Masks  and  Faces." 
Of  all  the  many  good  things  Mr.  Fisher  had  done 
here,  Triplet,  perhaps,  was  the  most  thoroughly  well 
done,  which  is  saying  a  great  deal  for  it;  and  it  is  the 
part,  no  doubt,  upon  which  much  of  his  fame  will  now 
rest.  It  ranked  with  Blake's  Jesse  Rural,  with  Jeffer- 
son's Rip  Van  Winkle,  with  Forrest's  King  Lear,  and 
with  the  Shylock  of  the  elder  Wallack.  It  seemed  to 
fit  him  as  perfectly  as  if  it  had  been  written  for  him, 
and  he  played  it  with  an  apparently  unconscious  and 
simjile  naturalness  that  was  eminently  artistic  and 
beyond  all  praise. 

Triplet,  as  he  was  realized  upon  the  stage  by  Fisher, 
—  Triplet,  the  actor,  the  scene-painter,  and  the  writer 
of  sanguinary  plays,  in  which  everything  that  ought 
not  to  be  is  (to  wit,  small  talk,  big  talk,  fops,  ruffians, 
ghosts),  and  in  which  everything  that  ought  to  be  (to 
wit,  truth,  situation,  and  dialogue)  is  not,  —  is  familiar 
in  all  walks  of  professional  life ;  while  even  in  non-pro- 
fessional and  practical  circles,  as  a  chronic  borrower  is 
he  sometimes  known.     The  Triplet  of  real  life,  how- 

204 


CHARLES  FISHER. 


CHARLES    FISHER.  205 

ever,  is  not  always  a  theatrical  Triplet :  he  is  some- 
times a  singer  of  bad  songs,  or  a  maker  of  bad  music ; 
often  a  writer  of  unpoetic  verse,  occasionally  a  painter 
of  unsalable  pictures;  in  some  instances  the  inventor  of 
some  impossible  machine  to  fly  with,  to  shoot  with,  or 
with  which  to  infuse  blood  ;  and  not  unfrequently  he 
is  the  preacher  of  poor  sermons,  that  most  melancholy 
of  all  failures,  —  "a  stickit  minister."  He  has  always 
inspiration,  genius,  and  "soul  ;  "  but  he  stops  always  just 
short  of  intellect  and  of  success.  Nevertheless,  Trip- 
let, no  matter  in  what  paths  of  Bohemianism  his  ways 
lie,  is  a  good  fellow,  amiable,  amusing,  enthusiastic,  and 
decidedly  social.  He  is  a  dreamer  of  dreams  ;  he  feels 
that  he  has  never  been  fully  appreciated  or  properly 
understood;  his  luck  has  been  always  against  him  ;  but 
he  is  careless  and  happy  withal,  and  too  often  his  own 
worst  enemy.  He  is  long  in  his  hair,  untidy  in  his 
dress  ;  and  never,  under  any  circumstances,  is  he  with- 
out a  large  family  as  dependent,  as  impecunious,  and 
as  helpless  as  himself.  Mr.  Reade,  in  his  dedication  to 
this  familiar  story,  claimed  his  main  object  to  be  the 
setting  right  of  the  memory  of  Margaret  Woffington, 
fal.sely  summed  up  until  he  came  to  her  defence  in 
novel  and  in  play  ;  but  he  and  his  co-worker  succeedetl 
better,  with  the  noble  assistance  of  Charles  Fisher,  in 
immortalizing  Triplet,  the  imaginary  character,  who  is 
more  real  than  the  character  of  history,  and  in  giving 
to  the  genus  Triplet  represents  a  local  habitation  and 
a  name. 

The  comedy,  "  Masks  and  Faces,"  is  not,  as  is  gen- 
erally supposed,  the  author's  adaptation  of  the  novel 
"  Peg  WoflFington  ;  "  on  the  contrary,  the  story  was  not 
published  in  book  form  until  almost  a  year  after  the 


206  FAMOUS   AMERICAN   ACTORS   OF  TO-DAY. 

play  was  presented.  Mr.  Benjamin  Webster  was  the 
original  Triplet  at  the  London  Hay  market  Theatre  in 
1852,  and  Mrs.  Sterling  the  original  Peg.  Mr.  Web- 
ster was  the  accepted  Triplet  of  the  London  stage,  as 
Mr.  Fisher  was  of  our  own.  He  played  it  at  the 
Adelphi  there  the  next  season,  with  Madame  Celeste 
as  Peg  Woffington,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Leigh  Murray  as  Sir 
Charles  Pomander  and  Mrs.  Triplet,  and  George  Honey 
as  Colley  Cibbcr.  "  Masks  and  Faces  "  was  played  for 
the  first  time  in  New  York  at  Burton's  Theatre,  Cham- 
bers Street,  on  the  night  of  Dec.  29,  1853;  Mr.  Fisher 
taking  the  part  of  Ernest  Vane,  and  the  entire  cast 
being  as  follows:  — 

Sir  Charles  Pomander     ....    .\fr.  George  Jordan. 

Mr.  Ernest  Vane \fr.  Charles  Fisher. 

Colley  Gibber Mr.  George  H.  Barrett. 

James  Qui N         Mr.  G.  H.  A/idreus. 

James  Triplet Mr.  William  F..  Burton. 

Lysimachus  Triplet Master  Chas.  T.  Parsloe,Jr. 

Mr.  Soaper Mr.   William  H.  Norton. 

Mr.  Snari Mr.   Tom  Johnston. 

Mrs.  Vane Mrs.  Buckland. 

(Miss  Kate  Honi.) 
Peg  Woffington Miss  Charlotte  Mitchell. 

(Her  first  appearance  in  America.) 
Kitty  Clive Mrs.  George  Holman. 

(Harriet  Phillips.) 
Mrs.  Triplet Afrs,  Hough. 

The  comedy  at  the  time  of  this  original  production 
was  said  to  have  been  written  by  Mr.  Boucicault  ;  but 
it  is  believed  to  have  been  the  version  of  Charles  Reade 
and  Tom  Taylor,  as  published  by  Samuel  French  some 
time  later,  and  now  universally  accepted  as  the  only 
acting  edition.  Old  play-goers  remember  Mr.  Burton's 
Triplet  as  a  strongly  marked  and  excellent  perform- 
ance, not  equal,  however,  to  the  Triplet  of  Mr.  Fisher, 


CHARLES   FISHER. 


207 


to  whom  he  soon  relinquished  it ;  George  Holman  play- 
ing Ernest  Vane  in  the  subsequent  performance  of  the 
play  at  Burton's  during  the  season  of  1853-1854. 

Peg  Woflfington,  as  Charles  Reade  has  summed  her 
up  and  idealized  her,  has  been  a  favorite  character  with 
our  leading  ladies  and  dramatic  aspirants  ever  since 
Miss  Charlotte  Mitchell  first  presented  her  to  our 
stage  more  than  forty  years  ago.  There  are  few  more 
difficult  or  trying  parts  even  to  experienced  actresses 
than  this  ;  it  requires  a  certain  sparkling  dash  and 
abandon,  a  proficiency  in  stage  arts,  and  a  management 
of  stage  business  quite  beyond  the  average  debutante, 
and  sometimes  out  of  the  reach  even  of  the  high- 
salaried,  accepted,  and  gifted  stars  of  the  profession. 

Among  the  Peg  Woflfingtons  most  familiar  to  the 
New  York  stage  in  Fisher's  time  were  Miss  Jean  Mar- 
garet Davenport  (Mrs.  Lander),  Miss  Laura  Keene, 
Miss  Lizzie  Weston  (later  Mrs.  Dolly  Davenport  and 
Mrs.  Charles  ^Lathew.s),  Mrs.  Hoey,  Miss  Madeline 
Henriqucz,  Miss  Carlotta  Leclercq,  Mrs.  John  Wood, 
Miss  Fanny  Davenport,  and  Miss  Kate  Field.  Of 
these,  perhaps  Mrs.  Lander  and  Mrs.  Iloey  were  the 
most  artistic,  the  most  refined,  and  the  most  success- 
ful. Miss  Laura  Keene,  if  not  great  as  the  Woffing- 
ton,  was  pleasing  and  satisfactory  in  the  part,  as  she 
was  in  every  part  she  undertook  in  her  earlier  years; 
while  Mrs.  John  Wood,  who  possessed  in  a  marked 
degree  the  merry  nature,  exuberance  of  spirit,  and  dark, 
sparkling  Irish  beauty  of  the  original,  was  personally 
the  most  charming,  winning  Peg  we  have  ever  known. 

Miss  Kate  Field,  by  the  way,  made  her  theatrical 
(iebtit  at  Booth's  Theatre,  Nov.  14,  1874,  in  "Masks  and 
Faces."     With  a  degree  of  courage  that  was  remark- 


208  FAMOUS   AMERICAN   ACTORS  OF  TO-DAY. 

able,  she  selected  Peg  Woffington  as  her  opening  rdle. 
Her  audience  was  one  of  the  most  intelligent  and  in- 
tellectual ever  collected  under  one  roof  in  New  York 
on  any  similar  occasion  ;  and  the  manner  in  which  she 
acquitted  herself  in  face  of  the  enormous  difficulties 
with  which,  as  a  novice,  she  had  to  contend,  gave  proof 
of  the  talent  for  the  stage  which  undoubtedly  she 
possesses,  and  encouraged  her  to  persevere  for  some 
little  time  in  her  intention  to  adopt  the  dramatic  pro- 
fession. Miss  Field  this  evening  was  ably  supported 
by  Miss  Kitty  Blanchard  (Mrs.  McKee  Rankin)  as 
Mabel  Vane,  Miss  Emma  Grattan  as  Mrs.  Triplet, 
Charles  Rockwell  as  Ernest  Vane,  Eben  Plympton  as 
Pomander,  and  Charles  Wheatleigh  as  Triplet,  —  a 
Triplet  so  good  that  it  would  have  been  considered 
almost  perfection  if  the  Triplet  of  Charles  Fisher  had 
not  been  so  long  and  so  well  known  to  the  town.  Be- 
tween these  Triplets  the  play-goer  of  New  York  that 
season  was  able  to  form  his  own  comparisons,  for  Mr. 
Fisher  played  the  part  at  the  Fifth  Avenue  Theatre 
a  few  evenings  immediately  preceding  and  following 
the  production  of  the  comedy  at  Booth's  for  Miss 
Field's  debut.  Mr.  Fisher's  Woffington  on  these  occa- 
sions was  Miss  I-^anny  Davenport.  That  Mr.  Fisher 
has  never  been  excelled  in  the  part  was  the  verdict 
of  the  critics  of  gallery  and  parquet.  He  seemed  to 
have  found  new  beauties,  and  to  have  developed  fresh 
traits  of  tender  and  pathetic  characterization  in  every 
representation  during  the  quarter  of  a  century  in  which 
he  had  played  it  here. 

Mr,  Fisher  came  to  this  country  from  England  in 
1852.  He  made  his  first  appearance  in  America  at 
Burton's  Theatre  in  Chambers  Street  on  the  30th  of 


CHARLES   FISHER.  2O9 

August  of  that  year  as  Ferment  in  the  "  School  of  Re- 
form," Mr.  Lysander  Thompson  making  his  American 
d^bitt  that  evening  as  Tyive  in  the  same  play.  Asso- 
ciated with  Mr.  Fisher  that  first  season  or  two  in 
Mr.  Burton's  company,  besides  Mr.  Thompson  and,  of 
course,  Mr.  Burton  himself,  were  William  H.  Norton, 
also  new  to  this  country  then,  Cornelius  A.  Logan,  the 
father  of  Eliza,  Celia,  and  Olive  Logan,  Tom  Johnston, 
Henry  Placide,  John  Dyott,  George  Skerrett,  James  W. 
Wallack,  Jr.,  Barney  Williams,  George  Barrett,  George 
Holland,  George  Jordan,  Mrs.  Hughes,  Miss  Jane  Hill 
(Mrs.  Burton),  and  other  artists  all  well  known  and 
well  liked  in  their  time  and  in  their  lines,  every  one 
of  whom  now  has  left  the  stage  and  the  world. 

Mr.  Fisher  on  his  first  appearance,  it  is  recorded, 
made  decidedly  a  favorable  impression  ;  and  ever  after  he 
maintained  it,  playing  nothing  badly  or  carelessly,  show- 
ing clear  comprehension  of  all  his  parts,  even  such  as 
were  beyond  his  powers  perfectly  to  portray,  and  always 
impressing  his  audience  as  a  student,  as  a  man  of  much 
more  than  the  ordinary  intelligence  and  refinement,  a 
man  and  an  artist  to  be  highly  esteemed  and  cordially 
liked.  In  the  Chambers  Street  house,  which  long  ago 
pa.s.sed  away  forever  with  so  many  of  the  bright  lights 
of  the  profession  who  shone  upon  its  boards,  he  created 
many  new  parts,  and  filled  to  everybody's  satisfaction 
many  an  old  one.  As  has  been  shown,  he  was  the  origi- 
nal Krnest  Vane  here,  and  the  greatest  Triplet  ;  he  was 
also  the  original  Black  Jack  in  "Janet  Pride,"  Richard 
Haughty  in  "The  Fox  Hunt,"  Dymond  in  Douglas  Jer- 
rold's  "  Heart  of  Gold,"  Jacob  Kindly  in  the  very  popu- 
lar "  Upper  Ten  and  Lower  Twenty;"  and  in  a  wide 
range  of  characters  in  the  old  tragedies,  comedies,  and 


2IO  FAMOUS   AMERICAN   ACTORS  OF   TO-DAY 

farces,  he  played  night  after  night  for  three  seasons. 
He  was  Prospero  in  "The  Tempest,"  Theseus  in 
"  A  Midsummer-Night's  Dream,"  Page  in  "  The  Merry 
Wives,"  Malvolio  in  "Twelfth  Night,"  Dick  Dowlas  in 
"  The  Heir  at  Law,"  Joseph  and  Charles  in  "  The  School 
for  Scandal,"  Captain  Absolute  in  "  The  Rivals,"  Charles 
Torrens  in  "The  Serious  P'amily,"  Carker  in  "  Dombey 
and  Son,"  Scipio  in  a  forgotten  drama  called  "  Woman's 
Life,"  Old  Adam  in  a  piece  of  that  name,  William  Tell 
in  Sheridan  Knowles's  tragedy,  Webster  Livingstone 
in  "  Wall  Street,"  a  local  play  by  the  author  of  "  Upper 
Ten  and  Lower  Twenty,"  Charles  Sparkle  in  a  laugh- 
able novelty  called  "  Rules  of  the  House,"  and  Sir 
Valentine  May  in  "  St.  Cupid,"  one  of  his  earliest  and 
most  decided  hits ;  the  bill  on  that  account,  and  as 
rather  a  curiosity  itself  in  the  way  of  bills,  being  per- 
haps worthy  of  reproduction  here  in  full:  — 

This  Monday  Evening,  Feb.  14,  1853, 

First  time  in  America  the  ne7V  comedy  in  three  acts  by 

Dour.i.As  Jerrold  of 

ST.  CUPID,  OR  DOROTHY'S  FORTUNE. 

Sir  William  Zero,  under  Secretary  of  State    .     ,     Henry  Russell. 
Sir  Valentine  May,  his  nephew  and  secretary    .     Chas.  Fisher. 
In  which  character  he  will  dance  the  Minuet  tie  in  Cour  and 

Gavotte  with  Mrs.  Skerrett,  execute  several  Airs  on  the  Violin,  and 

go  thro'  an  Assault  d' Amies  with  Mr.  Holman. 

Dr.  Budd,  a  country  schoolmaster Tom  Johnston. 

Ensign   Bellefleur,  a  Jacobite George  Holman. 

Checker,  a  spy  employed  by  Zero \Vm.  H.  Norton. 

H  a WKE,  an  official Moses  W.  Fisk. 

Trundle.  Zero's  servant Mr.  Gourlay. 

Dorothy  Buud Mrs.  Skerrett. 

Juno,  her  domestic,  a  country  girl Miss  Jane  Hill. 

Queen  Bee,  a  Gypsy  woman Mr.  Burton. 

To  conclude  with  the  favorite  drama  in  three  acts  of 
London  and  Paris,  etc. 


CHARLES   FISHER.  2  I  I 

Although  this  certainly  was  "the  first  night  in 
America "  of  the  comedy,  it  was  not  its  only  repre- 
sentation in  America ;  for  it  was  produced  the  same 
evening  at  the  Broadway  Theatre  under  the  manage- 
ment of  Mr.  Ethelbert  A.  Marshall  ;  Thomas  Duff  play- 
ing Zero ;  Frederick  B.  Conway,  Sir  Valentine  May  ; 
David  Whiting,  Dr.  Budd  ;  William  Davidge,  the  Queen 
Bee ;  Mrs.  John  Sefton,  Juno  ;  and  Miss  Emma  Fitz- 
patrick,  Dorothy  Budd.  The  play  in  both  houses  was 
for  one  week,  a  very  fair  success  for  those  days  ;  but  it 
was  more  popular  in  the  Chambers  Street  house  than 
on  Broadway.  It  was  allegorical  in  character,  full  of 
satire  and  bright  dialogue,  and  bordering  on  the  bur- 
lesque. Mr.  Burton's  rendering  of  a  Queen  Bee  was, 
as  may  be  imagined,  exceedingly  rich  ;  but  the  great 
honors  were  carried  away  by  Fisher  as  St.  Cupid,  in 
white  tights,  a  tunic,  gauze  wings,  a  flowing  wig,  and 
a  simper.  His  appearance  was  the  signal  of  great 
applause  from  the  pit  and  the  gods,  increased  by  his 
pirouetting  with  Mrs.  Skerrett  and  his  "set  to"  with 
Holman,  and  made  perfectly  tumultuous  when,  tak- 
ing the  violin  from  the  leader  of  the  orchestra,  John 
Cooke,  he  executed  the  several  airs  set  down  for  him 
in  the  bill.  His  fiddling,  not  the  least  of  his  accom- 
plishments, was  a  great  and  a  very  plea.sant  surprise 
to  the  audience,  and  no  Ole  Bull  or  Taganini  was  ever 
more  enthusiastically  received  or  encored ;  six  or  eight 
times  he  returned  the  instrument  to  the  amused  con- 
ductor, only  to  have  it  handed  back  to  him  at  the  man- 
dates of  the  dictators  in  front,  until  "  St.  Cupid  " 
seemed  likely  to  become  nothing  more  than  a  violin 
concert  with  Mr.  Fisher  as  sole  |)erformcr.  It  was  so 
uncommon  to  find  a  stock  actor  able  to  make  the  music 


212  FAMOUS    AMKRICWN    A(T()KS    OK    TO   DAY. 

himself  when  the  "  business  "  of  the  play  demanded  it, 
and  not  have  to  go  through  the  motions  while  the 
music  too  perceptibly  came  from  the  man  in  the  or- 
chestra who  pretended  he  was  only  keeping  time,  and 
it  was  so  agreeable,  when  the  stock  actor  was  a  favorite, 
to  find  that  his  music  was  better  than  any  of  the  musi- 
cians could  have  made  it,  that  the  Jiabitucs  of  Burton's 
could  not  express  too  strongly  their  appreciation  of 
Mr.  Fisher's  musical  talent,  nor  seem  to  have  enough 
of  it.  A  year  later  when  "  Masks  and  Faces "  was 
produced,  his  fiddling  as  Triplet,  his  love  for  his  old 
violin,  and  the  comfort  he  derived  from  it,  were  among 
the  most  realistic  and  touching  features  in  his  perform- 
ance ;  and  the  action  of  young  Lysimachus,  who  hands 
him  the  instrument  in  the  garret  when  there  is  nothing 
to  eat,  and  little  prospect  of  better  times,  with  tiie  re- 
quest, "Play  us  a  tune  on  the  fiddle,  father .-'"  was 
perhaps  the  most  popular  thing  in  the  play,  and  was 
always  received  with  more  hearty  apjilause  than  any 
line  of  the  text  or  point  in  the  situation  demanded. 
Mr.  Fisher  remained  on  the  Chambers  Street  boards 
until  the  summer  of  1855.  During  the  season  of  1855- 
1856  he  was  at  the  Broadway,  then  an  establishment 
already  given  to  stars,  where  he  supported  ICdwin 
Forrest,  Julia  Dean  Hayne,  Edward  L.  Davenport,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Barney  Williams,  and  James  W.  Wallack, 
Jr.,  playing  Rochford  to  the  Leon  de  Bourbon  of  Mr. 
Wallack  on  the  occasion  of  the  first  production  here 
of  "  The  Iron  Mask,"  in  which  Wallack  had  such  mag- 
nificent success.  Mr.  Ireland  preserves  this  bill,  dated 
Jan.  28,  1856,  with  Augustus  W.  Fenno  as  St.  Mars, 
JoSv:;ph  Grosvenor  as  Jarnac,  Miss  Josephine  Manners 
as  Cecile,  and  Madame  Ponisi  as  Hortense. 


CHARLES    FISIIKK.  2I3 

During  the  two  seasons  following  this,  1 856-1 857 
and  1857-1858,  Mr.  Fisher,  again  under  Burton's  man- 
agement, was  at  Burton's  new  theatre,  on  Broadway 
opposite  Bond  Street,  originally  the  Metropolitan,  and 
later  Winter  Garden.  In  this  company  were  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Boucicault  (Miss  Agnes  Robertson),  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
E.  L.  Davenport,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  William  J.  Florence, 
Mrs.  Hughes,  Mrs.  Barrow  (Julia  Bennett),  Mrs.  Ada 
I'lunkett,  Mr.  W.  H.  Smith,  Miss  Fanny  Brown,  Miss 
Charlotte  Cushman,  Miss  Ada  Clifton,  Miss  Jane 
Coombs,  Miss  Polly  Marshall,  Miss  Sara  Stevens,  Miss 
Susan  Denin,  Miss  Sallie  St.  Clair,  "  Dan  "  Setchell, 
J.  II.  Hackett,  Mark  Smith,  Lawrence  Barrett,  Edwin 
Booth,  John  Brougham,  Charles  Mathews,  and  Charles 
Walcot,  as  stock  and  star.  Here  he  played,  among 
many  other  parts,  Jesse  Rural  in  "Old  Heads  and 
Young  Hearts,"  Ford  in  "  The  Merry  Wives,"  and 
Jaques  in  "As  You  Like  It,"  continuing  in  public  favor, 
and  always  better  liked  as  he  was  better  known. 

His  name  is  found  on  tiie  old  bills  of  Nihlo's  in  tiie 
seasons  of  1858-1859  and  1860-1861.  In  the  interme- 
diate season  of  1 859-1 860  he  was  a  member  of  Laura 
Keene's  Company  in  the  theatre  then  called  by  her 
name,  and  afterwards  known  as  the  Olympic,  where  he 
l)layed  David  Deans  in  the  well-remenibereil  "  Heart 
of  Midlothian,"  with  Agnes  Robertson  ^s  Jeanie,  Laura 
Kcene  as  Effie,  Mark  Smith  as  Argylc,  and  Boucicault 
and  Charles  Wheatleigh  as  the  counsels  for  the  de- 
fence and  for  the  Crown.  Here  also  he  was  the  ori- 
ginal Kyrle  Daly  in  the  "Colleen  liawn,"  first  played 
March  29,  i860,  Boucicault  being  the  original  Myles  ; 
Daniel  Lccson,  Father  Tom  ;  Wheatleigh.  Danny 
Mann ;   Madame  Ponisi,    Mrs.   Cregan  ;    Laura  Keene, 


2  14  FAMOUS   AMERICAN   ACTORS   OF   TO-DAV. " 

Annie  Chute  ;  and  Miss  Robertson,  the  Colleen  Bawn. 
These  two  pieces  ran  each  for  many  weeks,  and  almost 
filled  the  entire  season.  Mr.  Thomas  Baker  was  con- 
ductor of  the  orchestra,  and  fairly  revelled  in  melodies 
of  Scotch  and  Irish  airs. 

Mr.  Fisher  made  his  first  appearance  as  a  member  of 
Wallack's  Company,  Sept.  25,  1861,  on  the  occasion  of 
the  opening  of  the  new  Wallack's  Theatre,  Broadway 
corner  of  Thirteenth  Street,  and  later  known  as  "  The 
Star."  The  play  by  Tom  Taylor  was  not  one  of  that 
gentleman's  best  productions,  and  was  entitled  "  The 
New  President ;"  Mr.  Fisher,  as  a  Grand  Duke  of  Klein- 
stadt,  playing  a  comparatively  unimportant  part.  His 
next  part  there,  Hadji  Stavros  in  Tom  Taylor's  "  King 
of  the  Mountains,"  was  better.  The  comedy  was  popu- 
lar, and  suited  all  of  the  persons  cast  in  it,  —  Lester 
Wallack,  A.  W.  Young,  William  R.  Blake,  Mrs.  Hocy, 
Mrs.  Vernon,  and  Miss  Henriquez;  and  it  quickly  estab- 
lished Mr.  Fisher  as  a  prime  favorite  with  the  Wallack 
audiences,  a  favor  he  never  lost  during  the  ten  years  of 
his  connection  with  that  house. 

Any  detailed  account  of  Mr.  Fisher's  career  at  Wal- 
lack's, so  honorable  to  the  actor  and  so  agreeable  to  all 
theatre-going  New  York,  is  not  possible  here.  With 
Mr.  Lester  Wallack  and  Mr.  Gilbert,  he  was  one  of  a 
trio  of  artists  unequalled  as  a  trio  on  any  stage  in 
America,  or  in  the  world  to-day  ;  and  the  first  mistake 
of  his  professional  life  unquestionably  was  made  when 
he  left  this  his  long  and  pleasant  professional  home. 
In  all  of  the  standard  and  old  comedy  revivals  so 
famous  on  Wallack's  stage,  and  played  there  as  they 
have  not  been  played  in  this  generation  elsewhere  on 
the  American  continent,  Mr.  Fisher  was  always  promi- 


CHARLES   FISHER. 


215 


nently  cast,  and  always  equal  to  the  character  he 
assumed,  while  as  the  original  of  very  many  new  char- 
acters he  will  not  soon  be  forgotten.  He  was  the  first 
George  D'Alroy  in  Robertson's  "  Caste  "  at  Wallack's, 
to  the  Esther  of  Rose  Eytinge,  May  3,  1869;  the  origi- 
nal Beau  Farintosh  in  "  School  "  during  the  same 
season,  the  original  Arthur  Mompesson  in  "  Progress," 
the  original  Prince  Perovsky  in  "  Ours,"  and  the  origi- 
nal Tom  Styles  in  "Society."  He  created  Gilbert 
Featherstone  in  "  Lost  in  London,"  Rawlings  in  "  Lost 
at  Sea,"  Dr.  Bland  in  "  Bosom  Friends,"  Father 
Malone  in  "Shamus  O'Brien,"  Tom  Robinson  in  "  Never 
Too  Late  To  Mend,"  Tom  Sutherland  in  "The  Favorite 
of  P'ortune,"  Mr.  Davis  in  "  Flying  Scud,"  Matthew 
Leigh  in  "  Rosedale,"  Digby  Grant  in  "  The  Two 
Roses,"  Bowles  in  "  Coquette,"  Lawyer  Goodwin  in 
"Minnie's  Luck,"  Brackenbury  in  "Pure  Gold,"  Didier 
in  "The  Fast  Family,"  Rawdon  Scudamore  in  "Hunted 
Down,"  Dick  Hartley  in  "How  She  Loves  Him,"  Tlie 
Major  in  "  Henry  Dunbar,"  Colonel  I'.pee  in  "  Tiie 
Lancers,"  Robert  Redburn  in  "The  Lancashire  Lass," 
and  Randall  in  "  Randall's  Thumb,"  playing  all  styles 
of  parts,  in  all  kinds  of  plays,  by  all  sorts  of  people,  — 
now  a  good  priest,  how  the  traditional  stage  Jew,  now 
a  charitable  doctor,  now  a  wicked  lawyer,  now  a  brave 
soldier  in  the  English  service,  now  a  Russian  grandee 
fighting  against  the  liritish,  now  a  sinner,  now  a  saint, 
now  a  gentleman,  now  a  clod,  — and  good  in  everything. 
Mr.  Fisher's  last  aj)pearance  as  a  member  of  Mr. 
W.illack's  company  was  made  on  the  ist  of  June,  1S72, 
the  last  night  of  the  regular  season,  and  farewell  bene- 
fit to  Mr.  Charles  Mathews,  the  bill  consisting  of  "Not 
Such  a  Fool  as  He  Looks  "  and  "  The  Captain  of  the 


2l6  FAMOUS   AMERICAN   ACTORS   OF  TO-DAV. 

Watch."  During  the  summer  season,  however,  he 
played  a  short  engagement  there  under  the  manage- 
ment of  Mr.  Theodore  Moss,  appearing  as  Mr.  Tib- 
betts  in  Watts  Phillips's  "On  the  Jury,"  as  Vicomte  de 
Noirmont  in  Palgrave  Simpson's  "  Lost  Trump  Card  ;" 
and  he  quietly  made  his  last  bow  on  these  boards, 
July  20,  1872,  as  Noah  Learoyd  in  "The  Long  Strike." 
He  became  a  member  of  Mr.  Augustin  Daly's  Fiftli 
Avenue  Theatre  Company  the  next  season. 

In  the  early  part  of  his  career  at  that  house,  some- 
thing like  justice  was  done  him  in  the  selection  of 
plays  and  in  the  distribution  of  characters  ;  and  it  was 
hoped  by  the  better  educated  portions  of  Mr.  Daly's 
audiences,  that  under  his  roof  the  standard  and  legiti- 
mate had  at  last  found  a  home,  with  standard  actors, 
like  Miss  Morant,  Mrs.  Gilbert,  Davidge,  Whiting, 
and  Fisher,  to  represent  them.  The  legitimate,  how- 
ever, was  gradually  withdrawn  and  shelved,  the  fault 
no  doubt  being  with  the  public,  who  did  not  appreci- 
ate ;  and  Mrs.  Gilbert  after  a  while  became  the  absurd 
mother-in-law  in  "  Life,"  Davidge  the  child-stealer  in 
"  Pique,"  and  P^isher  the  circus  postura  and  merry -an- 
drew  of  modern  farce-comedies. 

Mr.  P^isher's  first  appearance  under  Mr.  Daly's  man- 
agement was  made  at  the  original  P^ifth  Avenue  Theatre, 
Twenty-fourth  Street,  in  "The  Road  to  Ruin,"  Oct.  28, 
1872.  The  chief  parts  of  the  comedy,  strongly  if  not 
remarkably  well  played,  are  here  given  :  — 

Old  Dornton Mr.  Charles  Fisher. 

Young  Dornton Mr.  Henry  Crisp. 

Goldfinch Mr.  George  Clarke. 

Sulky Mr.  D.  Whiting. 

Widow  Wakrkn .     Mrs.  G.  H.  Gilbert. 

Sophia Miss  Linda  Dietz. 


CHARLES    FISHER. 


217 


This  was  Mr.  Fisher's  first  essay  of  the  part  of  Old 
Dornton  ;  it  was  watched  by  the  critics  and  the  knowing 
ones  with  much  interest,  and  was  considered  far  above 
the  average,  although  not  equal  to  the  Dornton  of 
Hlake  or  John  Gilbert.  "The  Belle's  Stratagem"  fol- 
lowed ;  and  "The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,"  with  Fisher 
as  Falstaff  for  the  first  time,  was  produced  on  the 
19th  of  November  of  the  same  year. 

The  cast  of  the  comedy  on  this  occasion  is  well 
worth  preserving. 

Sir  John  Falstakk Charles  Fisher. 

Fen  TON B.  T.  Ringgold. 

Shallow D.  Whiting. 

Slender James  Lcivis. 

FoRiJ George  Clarke. 

Page Louis  James. 

William   Page Xtiss  Jennie  Ycamans. 

Sir  I{ugh  Evans Wm.  Davidge. 

Host  ok  the  Garter   Inn Owen  Fawceit. 

Dr.  Caius W.J.  Le  Moyne. 

Baruolimi /.  .1.  Mackey. 

PiSTOl George  de  Vere. 

Nym J.  H.  Burnett. 

Robin Miss  Gerty  Xortvood. 

Simple v    •     ■     Wm.  Bcckman. 

Mistress  Ford Miss  Fanny  Davenport. 

Mistress  Pa«;e \fiss  Fanny  Morant. 

Mistress  .\nne  Pa<;:; Miss  Sara  Jcwetl. 

Mistress  Quickly Mrs.  G.  //.  Gilbert. 

Servants  to  Page  and  Fork,  Faikiks,  etc. 

Mr.  Fisher's  assumption  of  the  part  of  the  fat 
knight  was  looked  upon  as  a  very  important  event 
in  all  dramatic  circles,  particularly  as  it  followed  so 
quickly  upon  the  death  of  Mr.  J.  II.  Hackett  (Dec. 
28,  1871),  the  greatest  American  l^'alstiiff  of  modern 
times;  and  it  attracted  to  the  Twenty-fourth  Street 
Theatre,  not  only  the  habitual  crowds  of  liie  day,  but 


2l8  FAMOUS   AMERICAN   ACTORS  OF  TO-DAV. 

theatre-goers  of  a  past  generation,  who  were  rarely 
seen  before  the  curtain,  —  those  dreamers  of  the  past, 
who  only  talk  and  think  of  "  other  and  palmy  days." 

This  revival  of  "The  Merry  Wives  "  was  one  of  the 
most  creditable  to  the  management  of  Mr.  Daly  that 
has  taken  place  in  any  of  his  several  Fifth  Avenue 
Theatres  during  his  long  career.  In  all  of  the  lesser 
jxirts  it  was  well  played,  particularly  by  Mr.  Lewis  as 
Slender,  Mr.  Whiting  as  Shallow,  Miss  Davenport  as 
Mistress  Ford,  and  that  then  precociously  clever  child, 
Jennie  Yeamans,  as  young  William  Page. 

It  was  not  to  be  expected  of  course  that  any  actor, 
no  matter  how  careful  his  study  and  intelligent  his 
conception,  should  after  a  few  rehearsals,  or  even  after 
one  or  two  seasons'  performances,  have  been  immense 
as  Falstaff.  It  is  not  a  part  to  which  any  man  is 
born,  but  which  every  man  who  attempts  it  must  make 
himself  by  hard  and  conscientious  work.  Mr.  Fisher 
had  the  proper  intellectual  conception  of  the  knight's 
character;  he  made  him  the  sensual  rogue,  the  bully, 
the  braggart,  the  cowardly,  witty,  worldly  old  repro- 
bate, whom  everybody  laughs  at  and  with,  whom  no- 
body respects,  and  still  whom  everybody  is  forced  to 
like.  Mr.  Fisher,  however,  by  nature  refined  and  deli- 
cate in  his  sensibilities,  was  prone  to  refine  his  F'alstaff 
too  much,  and  to  keep  too  much  in  the  background 
of  his  picture  the  predominant  coarseness  and  brutal 
instincts  of  the  character  he  painted;  still,  his  Fal- 
staff, when  it  became  mellow  with  age  and  bettered  by 
practice,  was  a  notable  performance.  It  is  only  to  be 
regretted  that  he  had  few  opportunities  to  profit  by 
experience  in  the  part.  After  a  successful  run  of  three 
weeks,  the  comedy  was  withdrawn. 


CHARLES   FISHER.  219 

During  the  next  few  years  Mr.  Fisher  was  occa- 
sionally cast  in  characters  worthy  of  his  abilities,  — 
Triplet,  Sir  Peter  Teazle,  Don  Armado  in  "  Love's 
Labor's  Lost,"  Jaques  in  "As  You  Like  It,"  Graves 
in  "Money,"  Kent,  Gaunt,  and  Polonius  —  first  time 
Oct.  25,  1875;  but  too  frequently  his  name  was  not  on 
the  bills  at  all,  or  else  he  was  seen  in  society  plays 
of  the  French  and  modern  schools,  sensational,  emo- 
tional, and  improbable,  in  which  the  chief  merit  seems 
to  be  beautiful  toilets,  and  the  great  attraction  wonder- 
ful upholstery. 

If  Mr.  Fisher  was  not  placed  in  a  position  to  accom- 
plish great  things  himself,  he  did  at  all  events,  in  his 
own  careful  and  creditable  way,  assist  at  the  accom- 
plishment of  great  things  by  other  people.  When  Miss 
Hijou  Heron  made  her  very  clever  di'but,  April  14, 
1874,  in  "Monsieur  Alphonse,"  a  play  from  the  French 
of  the  younger  Dumas,  Fisher  was  very  pleasant  to 
hear  and  to  look  upon  as  the  bluff,  blunt,  honest  old 
sailor,  who  was  the  only  person  of  principle  and  with 
moral  sentiment  in  the  piece.  He  was  an  excellent 
Fagan  when  Miss  Davenport  surprised  even  her  friends 
by  her  admirable  impersonation  of  Nancy  Sikcs,  with 
Louis  James  for  William  and  liijou  Heron  as  Oliver 
Twist  (first  produced  there  May  19,  1874);  and  when 
Louis  James  made  his  first  hit  as  \'orick  in  a  tragedy 
of  that  name  taken  from  the  Spanish,  and  i)layed  on 
Dec.  5,  1874,  a  bit  of  acting  so  good  tiiat  it  was  be- 
yond tije  comprehension  of  the  average  play-goer,  and 
not  properly  appreciated  even  by  many  of  the  j^rofes- 
sional  critics  themselves,  Fisher  as  Shakespeare,  man- 
ager of  the  lilackfriars  Theatre,  created  at  least  a 
sensation.     Made  up  carefully  after  the  Stratford  bust, 


2  20  FAMOUS   AMERICAN   ACTORS   OF  TO-DAY. 

with  forehead  preternaturally  high  and  bumpy,  in  suit 
of  sober  brown,  looking  wise  beyond  human  conception, 
he  walked  the  boards,  and  uttered  proverbial  philosophy 
in  well-turned  and  true-piled  lines,  as  the  Immortal  (in 
the  original  Spanish)  is  supposed  to  have  carried  him- 
self, but  as  the  delight  and  wonder  of  our  stage  before 
he  dreamed  of  his  immortality  certainly  never  did. 
The  fault,  however,  was  in  the  play,  not  in  the  acting 
of  it ;  and  Fisher,  in  return  for  all  that  Shakespeare  had 
done  for  him,  did,  and  conscientiously,  all  he  could  for 
Shakespeare.  He  was  one  of  the  very  few  men  in 
America  in  this  generation  in  whom  the  mere  assump- 
tion of  such  a  part  would  not  seem  irreverent  or  pro- 
fane, always  a  well-graced  actor,  good  in  everything. 

During  the  latter  years  of  Mr.  Fisher's  life  he  was 
rarely  seen  upon  the  stage,  and  when  he  did  appear  his 
physical  weakness  and  his  advancing  years  were  pain- 
fully evident  to  those  who  had  known  and  loved  him 
in  his  prime.  He  was  cast  by  Mr.  Daly  for  Sir  Peter 
Teazle,  for  the  Parson  in  Pincro's  "  Squire,"  and  for 
Jaques  and  Adam  in  "As  You  Like  It."  His  last 
appearance  was  made  in  this  last  part,  Adam,  at  the 
London  Lyceum  in  the  summer  of  1890,  when  he  quietly 
retired  forever  from  the  profession  which  he  had  so 
long  adorned.  He  died  in  the  city  of  New  York  on 
the  nth  of  June,  1891,  and  in  his  seventy-fifth  year. 


CHARLES  R.  THORNE,  JR. 


CHARLES    R.   THORN  E,  JR. 

By  a.  M.  Palmer. 


The  career  of  Charles  R.  Thorne,  Jr.,  in  the  full  de- 
velopment of  his  powers,  and  exercising  the  best  nat- 
ural methods  of  dramatic  expression,  began  and  ended 
with  the  Union  Square  Theatre  ;  and  the  full  identity 
of  the  actor  with  the  house  under  my  management  for 
pretty  much  the  whole  period  has  left  with  me  an  abid- 
ing and  tender  recollection  of  him.  His  genius  in» 
volved  a  good  deal  of  brusqueness,  and,  it  is  not  unfair 
to  say,  moments  of  perversity ;  and  his  individuality 
was  strong  enough  to  leave  behind  him  a  store  of  anec- 
dotes. I  am  quite  sure  that  no  leading  actor  of  a  stock 
company  in  New  York  was  more  impressive  in  his  time, 
or  is  better  remembered  in  the  records  of  the  stage. 

Charles  Thorne  came  of  a  theatrical  family;  and,  im- 
bued with  the  traditions  and  training  of  the  old  school, 
he  continued  to  act  under  their  influence  up  to  the 
time  he  manifested  himself  in  a  new  power  and  under 
other  conditions  at  the  Union  Square  Theatre.  Me 
was  born  in  New  York  City,  March  lo,  1840.  When 
quite  young  he  was  apprenticed  or  engaged  to  a  Mr. 
Boyce  to  learn  the  trade  of  the  silversmith,  and  served 
for  about  six  months.  The  desire  to  become  an  actor 
getting  strong  in  him,  his  father  took  him  to  San  Fran- 

231 


22  2  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS   OK   TO-DAY. 

Cisco,  where  he  had  assumed  the  management  of  the 
American  Theatre. 

Thome's  education  had  been  obtained,  with  othens 
of  the  young  members  of  the  family,  at  the  Cathedral 
School  in  Montreal,  and  for  a  while  at  St.  John's  Col- 
lege in  New  York.  His  schooling,  therefore  was  not 
very  extensive,  yet  he  showed  no  lack  in  after  years 
of  that  information  and  accuracy  that  belong  to  the 
adequately  trained  man.  In  point  of  fact,  he  was  fond 
of  discussing  questions  of  moment  in  literature,  his- 
tory, the  drama,  and  the  like.  Being  a  man  of  inde- 
pendence, he  naturally  had  views  of  his  own,  views  that 
were  marked  at  least  with  vigor.  He  loved  to  gather 
about  him,  at  his  home  and  his  table,  men  of  thought, 
and  in  this  way  formed  intimacies  with  Robert  Inger- 
soU  and  others.  It  is  worth  while  noting  that  he  was 
Ko  strong  in  his  likes  and  dislikes  that  there  was  no 
concealment  of  either  with  him.  He  was  absolute  and 
peremptory  in  this  respect,  and  had  no  compromise 
with  people  that  did  not  please  him.  It  may  be  a 
trifling  detail  to  record,  but  it  was  one  of  the  curious 
points  in  his  character  that  he  was  easily  bored  ;  and 
yet,  like  the  severe  Edwin  Forrest  in  his  intimacy  with 
the  minstrel  Christy,  he  would  find  diversion  at  times 
with  ordinary  but  volatile  people. 

Thorne  had  certain  good  qualities  in  his  relation  as 
an  actor  with  the  public.  He  was  not  a  poser.  He 
was  domestic.  He  cared  little  for  criticism,  and  was 
never  aroused  but  once,  when  the  critic  of  the  Herald 
became  personal,  whereupon  he  administered  a  very 
severe  physical  rebuke  to  the  offender.  So  little  theat- 
ric was  he  that  it  was  not  always  that  he  could  be  got 
to  rehearse  in  detail.     He  was  not  conventional  in  his 


CHARLES   R.  THORXE,  JR.  223 

habits  of  study,  did  not  resort  to  the  looking-glass  as 
an  aid.  He  was  not  in  the  habit  of  talking  at  home  of 
his  parts,  and  in  every  way  preserved  an  individuality 
and  domesticity  apart  from  the  boards.  This  had  its 
bearing  on  his  naturalness  and  on  the  strength  of  his 
reserve  power.  It  is  proper  to  say  that  with  all  his 
brusqueness  —  owing  in  large  measure  in  his  latter 
days  to  the  encroach  of  his  subtle  disease  and  the 
approaching  and  really  unexpected  collapse — he  was 
a  generous  man.  It  is  told  of  him  in  his  family  that 
he  more  than  once  brought  unfortunate  fellow-actors  to 
his  house;  and  when  his  shabby  guest  would  emerge, 
he  would  be  transformed  in  raiment  belonging  to  the 
more  fortunate  actor,  and  with  some  money  in  his 
pockets  in  keeping  with  his  new  state.  Such  are  a 
few  details  that  may  help  to  show  the  value  in  a 
player  of  genuine  qualities  and  a  strong  individuality 
as  possessed  by  Charles  Thorne. 

In  the  volumes  of  manuscript,  photographic  and 
other  valuable  and  minute  material  that  I  have  pre- 
served in  the  Record  of  the  Union  Square  Theatre, 
may  be  found  many  interesting  anecdotes  of  Thorne. 
These  volumes,  ten  or  twelve  in  number,  contain  auto- 
biographies in  the  manuscript  of  all  those  concerned 
under  my  management  of  the  theatre,  the  whole  inlaid 
after  the  be.st  method  in  vogue,  and  constituting  as 
minute  and  unique  a  history  as  it  has  been  the  fortune 
of  any  period  of  dramatic  history  to  have.  After  leav- 
ing my  possession  they  will  serve  in  some  public  insti- 
tution—  The  Actors*  Fund  perhaps  —  to  preserve  the 
memory  of  the  old  Union  Square  Theatre. 

Thome's  first  appearance  is  established  as  Master 
George  Shelby  in  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  "  in  1854.     In 


224  FAMOUS   AMERICAN    ACTORS   OF   TO-DAY. 

a  letter  written  to  me  concerning  him,  his  father  says 
that  he  displayed  but  small  ability  at  first,  and  relates 
an  anecdote  of  his  confusion  in  delivering  a  simple 
messao-e  in  the  "  Hunchback,"  a  case  of  ordinary  stage- 
fright.  Indeed,  Charles  Thome's  earlier  efforts  fur- 
nished a  good  deal  of  good-humored  chaffing  in  the 
family. 

A  little  later  his  name  appeared  in  the  bills  of 
Purdy's  National  Theatre  in  New  York;  and  in  1858 
he  travelled  with  George  Pauncefort's  Company,  a 
well-known  organization,  through  the  New  England 
States.  In  i860  he  was  at  Niblo's  Garden  in  the  stock, 
and  in  the  next  year  ventured  to  the  West  Indies  in 
the  company  of  J.  W.  Lanergraff.  Two  years  were 
then  spent  under  Maguire  in  San  P'rancisco,  during 
which  time,  in  1864,  he  took  a  company  of  his  own  to 
China  and  Japan  for  a  short  tour.  It  was  only  in  1866, 
at  Maguire's,  that  he  established  himself  as  leading 
man  ;  and  from  1866  to  1869  he  maintained  himself  in 
that  capacity  at  the  Boston  Theatre,  going  from  there 
to  Sjjwyn's,  from  which  theatre  he  was  brought  to 
play  Tom  Broughton  in  "  Formosa  *'  *  in  New  York. 
In  1 870- 1 87 1  he  was  the  leading  man  with  Mrs. 
Scott-Siddons,  playing  Courtenay  in  " 'Twixt  Axe  and 
Crown,"  Orlando,  Romeo,  and  Claude  Melnotte.  P^'or 
a  while  he  was  at  the  Varieties  in  New  Orleans,  and 
from  1 87 1  to  1873  at  the  Chestnut  Street  Theatre, 
Philadelphia.  As  an  instance  of  his  sturdy  indepen- 
dence, it  may  be  mentioned  that  in  1872,  in  a  play  at 
Niblo's  entitled  "Black  Friday,"  he  threw  up  his  part 
after  one  performance,  upon  hearing  that  his  charac- 
ter was  aimed  at  Edward  S.  Stokes,  then  fresh  in  his 
notoriety  in  New  York. 


CHARLES   R.  TriORNE,  JR.  225 

Such  is  a  brief  resume  of  the  work  of  Charles 
Thorne  before  he  came  under  my  management,  lie 
was  known  up  to  that  time  as  a  good,  reliable,  conven- 
tional, vigorous  actor.  1  began  to  consider  him  first 
when  1  saw  him  in  a  crude  piece  called  "  The  Chicago 
Fire,"  that  was  played  at  Hart's  Theatre  Comique.  1 
saw  in  him  strength  and  adaptable  qualities.  1  knew 
that  it  would  be  a  task  to  tame  him  down  in  his 
methods,  but  it  so  happened  that  the  necessities  of 
the  play,  aided  by  the  urging  of  Dion  Boucicault  and 
myself,  commended  themselves  to  his  reason  ;  and  as 
Count  Rudolf  Chandoce  in  "Led  Astray"  his  trans- 
formation was  a  surprise  to  those  who  best  knew  him, 
and  his  adherence  thereafter  to  restrained  expression 
remained  permanent. 

In  what  I  may  call  the  formative  process  of  the  old 
Union  Square  Theatre,  when  I  was  looking  about  me 
for  plays  and  for  men,  and  was  seeking  to  give  a 
definite  direction  to  the  undertaking,  it  was  necessary 
to  obtain  material  upon  which  I  could  relv.  Strength 
in  the  leading  man  was  one  thing,  naturalness  was 
another.  I  had  judged  of  Thome's  capacities  cor- 
rectly. His  native  qualities  of  mind  were  obviously 
of  a  kind  to  admit  of  turning  him  to  advantage.  I  saw 
that  the  emotion  that  he  expressed  in  his  acting  was 
something  more  than  merely  theatric,  and  that  it  was  a 
mere  question  of  expression  and  method  that  was  lack- 
ing. In  the  end,  Charles  Thorne  became  the  most 
convincing  of  actors  in  all  passages  of  genuine  feeling. 
His  roughness  was  converted  into  manly  sincerity,  and 
to  it  was  added  a  tenderness  that  gave  full  value  to 
the  characters  to  which  I  assigned  him.  His  utterance 
was  distinct,  his  inflections  were  perfect.     There  was 


2  20  FAMOUS   AMERICAN   ACIORS   OF  TO-DAY. 

no  mistaking  his  meaning.  Charles  Thome's  open, 
manly  bearing  had  mucii  to  do  with  his  universal  ac- 
ceptance. He  was  fortunate  in  having  a  consistent 
and  perfect  career. 

Charles  Thome's  first  appearance  in  the  company 
was  in  "  The  Geneva  Cross,"  a  play  that  I  had  hatl  writ- 
ten for  the  theatre  by  George  F"awcett  Rowe,  on  a 
theme  that  he  had  outlhied  to  me  some  months  before. 
As  Raoul  Dubourg  he  had  a  somewhat  stormy  part,  one 
not  calculated  to  lead  him  to  that  finer  style  after- 
wards adopted  by  him  ;  but  shortly  afterward  in  "  Led 
Astray "  he  struck  the  right  path.  For  a  season  or 
two  I  saw  proper  to  send  Thorne  with  the  travelling 
company  of  the  theatre  ;  but  he  was  identified  with  the 
chief  successes  of  the  house,  and  to  enumerate  his  roles 
would  be  in  large  measure  to  recall  many  of  its  sea- 
sons. It  is  not  always  that  a  manager  can  get  such  a 
just  proportion  among  the  capacities  in  his  company 
that  the  leading  fifjure  in  it  does  not  dwarf  his  fel- 
low-players;  but  where  disproportion  does  exist,  the 
company,  instead  of  being  strong,  is  weak.  Any 
inequality  on  the  individual  affects  the  whole  body. 
While  Thorne  was  a  high  standard  and  a  good  inspirit- 
ing figure  at  the  head  of  my  organization,  that  organi- 
zation was  strong  and  independent  of  its  leading  man, 
who  was  not  indispensable.  The  leading  man  of  a  stock 
company  is  very  apt  to  make  a  mistake  in  this  par- 
ticular. The  truth  is,  however  excellent  he  may  be, 
it  would  be  utterly  impossible  for  him  in  plays  of  the 
modern  school,  plays  of  interest  properly  apportioned, 
to  monopolize  the  whole  attention  of  the  audience,  or 
to  carry  off  all  the  praise.  He  is  not  the  whole  play; 
and   his    efforts  alone,   however  brilliant,  have  only  a 


CHARLES   R.  THORNE,  JR.  227 

really  comparatively  small  share  in  the  general  effect. 
The  part  of  the  manager  is  not  a  small  one  in  provid- 
ing the  conditions  that  give  full  effect  to  the  doings  of 
each  and  all  of  the  actors  in  a  play ;  while  the  smallest 
detail,  the  least  bit  of  good  acting  in  a  small  way, 
has  its  bearing  on  the  general  result,  and  the  very 
points  for  which  the  pampered  actor  may  appropriate 
the  entire  applause. 

In  one  play,  "  The  False  Friend,"  Thome's  emo- 
tional power  had  the  singular  effect  of  over-reaching 
the  part ;  that  is  to  say,  playing  the  false  heir  to  a 
noble  estate  and  incidentally  gaining  the  heart  of  an 
innocent  and  proud  girl,  he  touched  the  sympathies  of 
the  audience  to  such  an  extent  that  the  repulsion  that 
should  have  been  experienced  toward  him  did  not  exist 
at  all.  The  rascality  of  the  claimant  was  forgotten  for 
the  moment  ;  and  one  was  fain  to  wish  Lucien  Gleyne, 
the  lover,  prosperity  in  his  suit.  Edgar  Fawcett  had 
written  the  play  at  my  encouragement,  and  had  taken 
the  Tichborne  case  as  his  suggestion.  It  was  an  ex- 
cellent play  in  many  respects. 

But  it  was  at  the  Union  Square  that  the  fortunate 
combination  of  circumstances  was  to  give  him  charac- 
ters that  were  admittedly  perfect  ;  for  he  had  parts  in 
his  career  at  the  house  where  not  only  he,  but  his  asso- 
ciates and  the  play  itself,  were  as  nicely  balanced  in 
perfect  art  as  we  may  hope  to  see.  It  is  not  always 
that  a  company  in  its  best  strength  can  be  supplied 
with  a  fitting  play;  but  the  Union  Square  Theatre  saw 
this  conjunction.  "The  Two  Orphans'*  represents  a 
point  where  the  company  was  instinct  with  vitality, 
flushed  with  success,  and  pliable  from  the  training 
together.     I  began  to  look  on   them   as   my  veterans, 


228  FAMOUS   AMERICAN   ACTORS   OF  TO-DAY. 

prompt,  eager,  obedient,  and  loyal  in  the  performance 
of  their  work.  The  spirit  in  the  company  was  admira- 
ble. In  "The  Two  Orphans"  Thorne  had  the  impor- 
tant part  of  the  Chevalier  de  Vaudrey,  but  it  was 
eminently  a  part  that  illustrated  the  value  of  a  leading 
man  of  the  best  qualities.  There  was  not  much  to  do  ; 
but  the  noble  spirit  of  the  chevalier,  his  dashing  char- 
acter', his  fine  breeding,  and  all  those  points  so  needful 
to  the  atmosphere  of  the  piece,  were  finely  brought  out 
by  Thorne.  The  play  is  of  one  of  the  historic  suc- 
cesses of  the  American  stage  ;  and  I  need  not  recall  the 
Madame  Frochard  of  Marie  Wilkins,  the  Louise  of  Kate 
Claxton,  the  Henrietta  of  Kitty  Blanchard,  the  Pierre 
of  Mackey,  and  the  Jacques  of  McKee  Rankin ;  and  yet 
these  are  the  characters  that  would  be  best  remem- 
bered in  an  ordinary  performance  of  the  great  play. 

With  Thorne  as  the  chevalier,  you  carried  away 
with  you  a  distinct  memory,  a  restful  reminiscence  in  a 
tearful  and  stormy  play;  for  there  was  something  in- 
dividual and  real  in  the  impression  left  by  Thorne. 
Many  of  his  characters  you  remembered  as  men  you 
had  known.  I  would  put  his  Daniel  Rochat  in  this 
class.  In  its  intellectual  processes  "  Daniel  Rochat " 
is  one  of  the  greatest  plays  ever  written  by  Sardou.  It 
is  not  a  piece  for  an  ordinary  company.  In  Miss  Sara 
Jewett  there  was  an  ideal.  In  character,  feeling,  and 
conviction,  she  represented  the  character  in  Sardou's 
drama  to  perfection  ;  and  the  whole  performance  left 
an  impression  upon  such  distinguished  preachers  as 
Dr.  Bellows  and  Dr.  Collier,  who  communicated  to  me 
letters  expressing  their  appreciation  of  the  value  of 
such  thoughtful,  instructive,  and  powerful  plays.  Osip 
in  "The  Danicheffs  "  was  a  part,  somewhat  picturesque 


CHARLES   R.  THORNE,  JR.  229 

in  various  ways,  that  was  played  by  Thome  with  fine 
effect.  There  was  a  happy  co-operation  of  forces,  too, 
in  some  of  the  plays  in  which  he  appeared  with  Clara 
Morris. 

John  Strebelow  in  "The  Banker's  Daughter,"  the 
play  that  established  its  author,  Bronson  Howard,  in 
his  career,  was  one  of  those  fine,  dashing,  earnest,  con- 
vincing performances  of  this  excellent  actor.  Thorne 
was  seen  among  other  pieces  in  "  Mother  and  Son," 
"Felicia,"  "  The  Wicked  World,"  "The  Hunchback," 
"Ferrol,"  "Conscience,"  "  Lost  Children,"  "  The  Cre- 
ole," etc.  His  Harold  Armitage  in  "The  Lights  o' 
London  "  was  the  last  piece  of  brilliant  work  that  he 
did  at  the  Union  Square  Theatre,  though  it  was  to  be 
seen  by  the  closely  observant  at  that  time  that  his 
forces  were  abating. 

In  the  early  part  of  the  winter  of  1882  Thorne 
showed  a  disposition  to  accept  some  of  the  very  large 
offers  that  were  made  for  his  services  ;  and,  although  he 
was  under  contract  with  me,  I  concluded  to  let  him 
venture  forth.  Devotion  to  art  and  fidelity  to  the 
management  are  essentials  in  a  stock  company  that  is 
to  be  thoroughly  efficient.  Thorne  had  been  liberally 
compensated  for  these  desirable  qualities,  but  with  di.s- 
content  once  set  in  his  usefulness  was  impaired.  He 
accepted  the  tempting  offer  made  by  Manager  Stetson, 
and  on  Jan.  8,  1883,  at  Booth's  Theatre,  appeared  in  an 
elaborate  revival  of  "  The  Corsican  Brothers,"  the  dual 
character  of  Louis  and  Fabian  di  Franchi,  requiring 
considerable  exertion. 

The  effort  proved  too  much  for  his  j>hysical  re- 
sources. After  the  second  performance  he  was  una- 
ble to  leave  his  bed,  and  the  theatre  was  closed.      His 


230  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS   OF   TO-DAV. 

career  was  ended.  He  died  on  March  10,  1883,  within 
one  day  of  completing  his  forty-third  year,  leaving 
bjhind  a  more  than  common  personal  feeling  of  regret 
in  the  profession  ;  and  was  borne  to  his  last  resting- 
place  with  a  few  words  uttered  over  him  by  his  old 
comrade,  Stuart  Robson,  and  with  this  message  from 
Robert  IngersoU  :  — 

"  A  few  tears,  a  few  words,  a  few  flowers,  are  all  that  tlie  living 
can  give  to  the  dead." 


?*  ^ 


^  ^*^, 


AGNES  BOOTH. 


AGNES   BOOTH. 

By  Lewis  C.  Strang. 


Agnes  Booth,  in  private  life  Mrs.  John  B.  Schoeffel, 
has  an  indisputable  claim  on  the  title,  "  America's 
leading  lady."  I  know  of  no  appellation  that  would 
bestow  on  her  greater  honor,  that  would  imply  tiie 
possession  and  practice  of  a  more  honest  or  a  whole- 
somer  art,  or  that  would  better  indicate  the  affection  in 
which  the  public  that  knows  her  holds  her.  "  Leading 
lady,"  taken  in  its  old  stock-company  sense,  signifies 
that  crown-jewel  in  the  player's  casket,  versatility,  the 
ability  to  play  well  many  parts  ;  it  signifies  temperament, 
personality,  individuality  ;  it  signifies  dramatic  tech- 
nique and  brains  ;  it  signifies  the  capacity  adequately 
to  comprehend  and  logically  to  delineate  a  character,  to 
diffuse  it  with  sympathy,  to  make  it  live  by  a  thousand 
touches  that  appeal  to  common  humanity  ;  it  signifies 
the  annihilation  of  mannerisms. 

Is  this  over-praise  of  an  actor  whose  name  is  bv  no 
means  the  best  known  on  the  theatrical  roll-call,  and 
whose  power  to  create  and  to  interpret  has  been  felt 
by  but  a  small  part  of  the  whole  number  of  theatre- 
lovers  ?  The  narrowness  of  knowledge  regarding  Mrs. 
Schoeffel's  art  is  easily  explained.  She  has  never  been 
thoroughly  inoculated   with  the   starring   germ  —  not- 

231 


withstanding  that  she  did  try  the  experiment  once 
about  twenty  years  ago.  But,  having  escaped  this 
rut-begetter,  she  now  stands  —  unconsciously,  let  us 
hope  —  a  representative  of  the  very  best  that  the 
American  stage,  at  the  present  time,  can  show,  — 
"the  perfect  artist,"  that  marvellous  exponent  of  his- 
trionic artifice,  Coquelin,  called  her. 

Marian  Agnes  Land  Rookes  was  born  in  Sydney, 
Australia,  Oct.  4,  1843.  Although  a  native  of  the 
island  continent  and  of  English  parentage,  — her  father 
was  a  captain  in  the  British  army,  —  her  dramatic 
training  was  distinctly  American.  Her  first  appearance 
on  any  stage  was  made  in  her  native  city  as  a  dancer, 
she  being  the  Columbine  at  the  Victoria  Theatre. 
She  was  then  only  fourteen  years  old.  On  Feb.  9, 
1858,  she  appeared  for  the  first  time  in  America,  in 
San  Francisco,  under  the  management  of  Mrs.  John 
Wood.  This  engagement  was  a  short  one ;  but  she 
continued  in  San  Francisco  as  a  member  of  the  stock 
company  at  Maguire's  Opera  House,  then  the  most 
important  Western  theatre,  until  June  17,  1865.  Her 
reputation  was  firmly  established  when  she  was  only 
seventeen  years  old  by  a  performance  of  Hermione 
in  "  A  Winter's  Tale."  On  the  eleventh  of  Feb- 
ruarv,  1861,  she  married  Harry  Perry,  a  popular  actor, 
who  died  in  less  than  a  year.  From  the  time  of 
this  marriage,  and  until  she  became  the  wife  of  Junius 
Brutus  Booth,  in  1867,  she  was  billed  as  Mrs.  Agnes 
Perry.  T-  B.  Booth  was  a  brother  of  the  great  trage- 
dian, Edwin  Booth  ;  but  he  was  not  thoroughly  imbued 
with  the  family  dramatic  instinct.  He  himself  vowed 
that  he  would  rather  plough  all  day  than  act  at  night  ; 
and  Edwin,  who  heard  the  remark,  sighed,  and  retorted. 


AGNES    BOOTH.  233 

"  Yes,  every  one  knows  you  are  a  better  farmer  than 
you  are  an  actor." 

In  the  fall  of  1865  Mrs.  Perry  came  East  ;  and  after 
a  preliminary  engagement  at  the  Winter  Garden,  New 
York,  then  under  the  management  of  John  S.  Clarke, 
she  made  her  official,  metropolitan  debut  at  Niblo's,  in 
support  of  Edwin  Booth.  The  following  January  she 
became  a  member  of  the  Boston  Theatre  Company, 
then  one  of  the  great  dramatic  organizations  of  the 
country.  There  she  remained  eight  years,  playing  side 
by  side  with  Frank  Mayo  and  Louis  Aldrich,  and  suj)- 
porting  every  star  of  any  prominence  in  the  country. 
In  1874  Mrs.  Booth  began  a  two  years'  starring  engage- 
ment, a  venture  which  added  much  to  her  reputation. 
At  the  end  of  this  time  she  became  identified  with  the 
New  York  theatres,  playing  special  engagements  at 
Booth's  Theatre,  Niblo's,  and  the  Union  Square,  until 
Henry  E.  Abbey  organized,  in  1878,  his  Park  Theatre 
Company,  of  which  Mr.s.  Booth  was  the  leading  lady. 
Three  years  later  began  her  connection  with  A.  M. 
Palmer's  Madison  Square  Theatre  Company,  a  connec- 
tion which  lasted,  with  the  exception  of  special  engnge- 
ments  in  Boston  and  Philadelphia  during  the  season  of 
1 885-1 886,  until  the  company  was  reorganized  in  1891, 
when  she  left  Mr.  Palmer's  management,  and  retired 
for  a  time  from  the  stage.  Junius  Brutus  Booth  died 
on  Sept.  17,  1883  ;  and  in  1S85  Mrs.  Jiooth  was  mar- 
ried to  John   B.   Schoeffel,  the  well-known   manager. 

During  her  retirement  Mrs.  Schoeffel  went  abroad, 
and  studied  with  considerable  thoroughness  the  theatre 
in  Eondon  and  Paris.  The  season  of  1895- 1896  saw  her 
back  in  the  harness  in  the  leading  role  of  an  out-and- 
out  sensational  melodrama,  "The  Sporting  Duchess." 


234         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF    TO— DAY. 

From  this  brief  sketch  of  Mrs.  Schoeffcl's  career,  an 
idea  of  the  remarkable  completeness  of  her  dramatic 
experience  can  be  gleaned.  To  enumerate  all  the  char- 
acters which  she  has  played  would  be  almost  a  never- 
ending  task.  Indeed,  it  is  doubtful  if  the  list  could 
be  made  complete,  even  by  Mrs.  Schoeffel  herself. 
Eight  years  of  changing  bills  in  the  Californian 
theatre,  eight  years  of  the  same  thing  at  the  Boston 
Theatre,  and  some  fifteen  years  of  similar  experience 
in  the  New  York  theatres  !  Think  of  it !  With  Edwin 
Booth  in  New  York  in  the  sixties  she  made  her  first 
appearance  as  Julie  in  "  Richelieu."  Then  came  Des- 
demona,  Virginia  in  "  Virginius,"  Ophelia,  Marianne  in 
"Jack  Cade,"  Cordelia  in  "King  Lear,"  Colenthe  in 
"Damon  and  Pythias,"  and  Julia  in  "The  Gladiator." 
Writing  of  these  performances,  a  critic  says:  "She  is 
one  of  the  finest  actresses  at  present  on  the  American 
stage.  Her  features  are  expressive,  and  her  face  full  of 
animation.  She  is  a  mistress  of  stage  business,  and 
never  misses  the  points,  though  she  takes  them  quietly 
and  without  apparent  intention.  She  has  a  great  deal 
of  dash,  plenty  of  spirit,  a  ringing  stage  laugh,  and  a 
voice  of  singular  richness  and  distinctness."  And  the 
same  words  might  equally  well  be  applied  to  her  to-day, 
only  with  greater  emphasis. 

Her  engagement  at  the  Boston  Theatre  began  with 
the  making  of  a  great  hit  as  Marco  in  "The  Marble 
Heart,"  which  character  she  assumed  Jan.  8,  iS66,  at 
a  benefit  to  Frank  Mayo,  Her  continued  good  work, 
in  parts  ranging  from  tragedy  to  farce,  made  this  first 
impression  a  lasting  one.  After  returning  to  New 
York,  she  appeared  in  Belot's  "  La  Femme  de  Fey  " 
and  "  Elaine,"  following  these  with  a  remarkable  im- 


AGNES    BOOTH.  235 

personation  of  Constance  in  "King  John."  When  in 
August,  1876,  Jarrett  and  Palmer  produced  at  Booth's 
Theatre  the  great  spectacle  founded  on  Lord  Byron's 
"  Sardanapalus,"  Mrs.  Booth  as  Myrrah  was  its  chief 
charm.  It  was  a  notable  production  for  those  days, 
replete  with  Oriental  splendor  and  suggestiveness. 
Then  followed  another  great  success  for  Mrs,  Booth 
in  Shakespeare's  "  Cleopatra,"  in  which  she  played 
the  Serpent  of  the  Nile. 

With  the  Union  Square  Theatre  Company  Mrs. 
Booth  is  best  remembered  as  Lady  Maggie  Wagstaff 
in  "  Pink  Dominoes,"  and  also  for  her  excellence  in 
"  The  Celebrated  Case."  When  "  Old  Love  Letters  " 
was  produced  by  the  Park  Theatre  Company,  Bronson 
Howard,  the  author  of  the  play,  was  so  pleased  with 
her  characterization  of  the  widow  that  he  forthwith 
presented  her  with  the  drama.  Then  followed  a  capital 
bit  of  character  acting  as  liellinda  in  Gilbert's  "  En- 
gaged;" and  later,  when  Bartley  Campbell's  "  Fairfa.x  " 
was  produced,  she  carried  to  success  a  poor  play.  Af- 
ter the  organization  of  the  Madison  Square  Theatre 
Company,  Mrs.  Booth  created  the  parts  of  Nora  in 
"  Esmeralda,"  Oct.  9,  1881,  and  of  Mrs.  Dick  in  Bron- 
son Howard's  "  Young  Mrs.  Winthrop." 

It  is,  however,  as  Mrs.  Ralston  in  Sir  Charles 
Young's  "Jim,  the  Penman,"  first  played  by  the  Madi- 
son Square  Theatre  Company  on  Nov.  i,  1886,  that 
the  theatre-goers  of  to-day  are  wont  to  connect  tiie 
name  of  Agnes  Booth.  Her  powerful  acting  in  this 
role  did  much  to  reveal  the  dramatic  possibilities  in 
the  middle-aged  heroine,  the  woman  who  knew  what 
it  meant  to  live  and  to  suffer.  Previously  it  had  been 
the  young  girl  around  whom  the  playwrigiit  had  been 


2^6         lAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 


accustomed  to  centre  his  appeals  to  an  audience's  sym- 
pathies. Mrs.  Ralston  thrust  the  young  girl  to  that 
lower  plane  on  which  she  properly  belonged,  and  not 
yet  has  the  poor  thing  had  the  courage  again  to  climb 
into  the  full  light  of  the  calcium.  In  "Jim,  the  Pen- 
man," Mrs.  Schoeffel's  portrayal  of  mental  suffering,  of 
grief,  of  misery,  and  of  despair,  seemed  wonderfully 
real.  It  was  the  height  of  emotional,  not  hysterical, 
acting.  To  afford  a  striking  example  of  versatility,  one 
has  but  to  notice  the  contrast  —  not  contrast,  either, 
complete  dissimilarity  —  between  Mrs.  Ralston  and 
the  character  in  "The  Sporting  Duchess,"  with  which 
Mrs.  Schoeffel  remade  her  reputation  on  her  return  to 
the  stage.  The  Duchess  of  Milford  dwelt  on  that 
vague  line  betwixt  comedy  and  burlesque  ;  and  Mrs. 
Schoeffel  realized  a  paradox  —  she  presented  a  sporting 
woman  who  was  womanly,  a  "  hail  fellow,  well  met " 
among  men,  a  frequenter  of  stables  and  race-tracks,  a 
female  plunger  who  was  not  coarse,  who  never  shocked, 
who  was  altogether  delightful,  and  who,  moreover,  was 
life-like  and  not  a  puppet. 

Time  effaces  nothing  more  quickly  or  more  abso- 
lutely than  it  does  the  recollection  of  plays  and  of 
acting.  If  one,  in  whom  theatre -going  has  been  a  long 
practised  habit,  strives  to  recall  performances  which 
at  the  time  pleased  him  mightily,  he  is  likely  to  find 
that  they  have  faded  away.  Yet  some  scenes  —  hardly 
scenes,  merely  moments  unusually  vivid  in  impression 
—  have  a  curious  way  of  sticking.  Firmly  fixed  in  my 
memory  is  that  bit  of  pantomime  with  which  Agnes 
Booth  brought  down  the  curtain  on  the  little  ])lay  by 
Augustus  Thomas,  "Afterthoughts." 

This  curtain-raiser,  I  strongly  suspicion,  was  of  little 


AGNES    BOOTH.  237 

value  in  itself  ;  but  in  the  keeping  of  Mrs.  Booth  and 
Mr.  Edward  Bell  it  became  wonderfully  heart-stirring. 
It  was  full  of  Thomas  sentiment,  then  fresh  and  new, 
and  not  washed  out.  It  told  the  story  of  a  widow,  who 
loved  a  man  younger  than  herself,  over  whom  she  ex- 
erted a  great  influence.  Straight  from  a  quarrel  with 
his  sweetheart  he  came  to  her,  and  she  had  but  to 
tempt  him  ever  so  little  to  win  him.  She  nobly  re- 
sisted ;  and  concealing  with  a  smiling  face  the  aching 
within,  she  sent  him  away  to  that  other  one  whom  she 
knew  he  loved,  and  in  whom  she  realized  he  would  find 
the  greater  happiness.  After  the  door  has  closed  be- 
hind him,  and  as  she  listens  to  the  decreasing  noise 
made  by  his  departing  carriage,  the  never-to-be-absent 
loneliness  steals  over  her  with  the  silence.  The  smile 
leaves  her  lips,  and  her  face  is  wan  and  drawn.  She 
shivers  ;  for  the  blood,  the  warm  blood  of  life  and  joy, 
seems  no  longer  to  flow  through  her  veins,  and  her 
heart  is  as  dead.  She  reaches  for  her  cloak,  and  wraps 
its  warmth-reviving  folds  around  her.  The  lighted  lamj) 
with  its  brightness  mocks  her ;  and  quickly,  almost  an- 
grily, she  turns  it  down  till  it  shows  but  the  faintest 
sparkle.  Aimlessly,  carelessly,  she  goes  here,  there. 
Her  stumbling  steps  bring  her  to  that  favorite  chair 
by  the  fireside,  where  she  has  so  often  given  her 
thoughts  to  him  ;  and,  weary,  she  sinks  into  its  depths. 
In  the  flickering  firelight  her  loss  of  hope  is  revealed 
in  all  its  pitifulncss.  Iler  desi)air,  at  first  too  over- 
whelming for  tears,  at  last  finds  this  most  merciful 
outlet.  Her  sobs,  long  drawn  out,  agonizing,  one  might 
well  believe  come  from  her  very  soul. 
Such  is  the  irrcat  art  of  Ajrnes  Booth. 


JAMES   H.   STODDART. 

By  Edwin  Francis  Eugetp. 


Left  aimost  alone  among  the  actors  of  to-day  as  the 
representative  of  that  school  of  Anglo-American  players 
who  for  the  best  part  of  this  century  have  added  to  the 
celebrity  of  our  national  stage,  James  Henry  Stoddart 
stands  forth  distinctly  and  eminently  as  an  actor  of  su- 
perior training,  of  comprehensive  artistic  intellect,  and 
of  sterling  renown.  His  Scotch  birth  gives  him  the 
sturdy,  strong  foundation  for  the  actor's  life  ;  his  theat- 
rical ancestry  ingrains  in  him  the  taste  and  inclination 
for  the  stage,  and  makes  him  a  veritable  man  of  the 
theatre ;  his  own  inborn  and  acquired  understanding  of 
the  dramatic  art  provides  him  with  the  ability  to  grasp 
many  phases  of  character,  and  to  interpret  them  with 
ideal  truth  and  lifelikeness.  Now  that  Frederic  Robin- 
son has  returned  to  his  native  country,  Mr.  Stoddart  is 
left  with  us  as  the  only  old-time  British  actor  of  note 
whose  adopted  home  is  the  American  theatre.  Da- 
vidge,  Fisher,  Wheatleigh,  among  his  contemporaries, 
are  all  gone  ;  but  fortunately  a  new  generation  is  com- 
ing to  the  fore  to  take  their  places. 

Mr.  Stoddart  was  born  at  Barnsley,  in  Yorkshire,  on 
Oct.  13,  1827,  his  father  being  a  well-known  actor  of 
the  same  name,  and  for  twenty  years  a  distinguished 

238 


J.  H.  STOOOART. 


JAMES    H.    STODDART.  239 

member  of  the  stock  company  of  the  Theatre  Royal 
in  Glasgow.  Brought  up  in  the  theatrical  atmosphere, 
young  Stoddart  was  educated  at  Glasgow,  and  is  said 
to  have  made  his  first  appearance  on  the  stage  in  his 
sixth  year.  But  he  did  not  adopt  the  stage  for  good 
and  all  until  he  was  seventeen,  when  he  obtained  an 
engagement  in  Aberdeen  with  a  stock  company.  Re- 
maining there  for  four  years,  he  became  a  member  of 
the  Liverpool  Tfieatre  Company  for  the  subsequent  five 
years,  and  then,  following  in  the  footsteps  of  many 
another  player,  came  to  this  country  in  search  of  wider 
fame  and  adequate  remuneration.  His  career  here 
begins  in  1853,  at  Wallack's  Theatre  in  New  York,  and 
is  carried  down  to  the  present  day  through  a  series  of 
engagements  under  the  management  of  Laura  Keene, 
Dion  Boucicault,  Mrs.  John  Wood,  witli  A.  M.  Palmer's 
companies  successively  at  the  Union  Square,  the  Madi- 
son Square,  and  Palmer's  Theatres,  and,  last  of  all,  with 
Charles  Frohman's  various  theatrical  enterprises.  As 
Mr.  Palmer's  company  made  annual  tours  through  the 
larger  cities  of  the  United  States,  Mr.  Stoddart  became 
widely  known  as  an  accomplished  and  versatile  actor. 

During  his  more  than  forty  years  on  the  American 
stage,  Mr.  Stoddart  has  seen,  and  has  himself  been  a 
part  of,  the  vast  change  in  the  current  of  our  drama. 
Not  excepting  a  brief  starring  tour  in  1873,  his  ener- 
gies have  always  been  devoted  to  the  perfection  of  the 
details  of  a  play  j)ro(hiced  and  acted  according  to  tiie 
stock-comjiany  methods  ;  and  he  has  never  sought  to 
make  himself  of  any  more  prominence,  nor  considered 
his  part  of  any  greater  value,  than  its  relation  to  the 
entire  play  warranted.  In  the  midst  of  the  growth  of 
the  star  system,  he  has  remained  pre-eminently  a  stock- 


240       FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

company  actor.  He  has  grown  artistically,  but  at  the 
same  time  has  remained  unchanged  in  his  retiring  tem- 
perament from  the  day  when  he  first  trod  the  American 
stage  in  a  small  character  in  the  once  familiar  farce  of 
"  A  Phenomenon  in  a  Smock  Frock,"  till  the  season 
of  1 895-1 896,  when  his  creation  of  the  old  trainer  in 
"The  Sporting  Duchess"  was  the  one  oasis  in  an 
extraordinarily  meretricious  play.  His  early  triumj^hs 
were  the  triumphs  of  those  old  comedies  and  farces 
whose  only  present  function,  with  a  few  exceptions  like 
"The  Rivals,"  "  The  School  for  Scandal,"  "  She  Stoops 
to  Conquer,"  "The  Heir  at  Law,"  and  "Wild  Oats," 
is  to  cumber  the  shelves  of  our  libraries,  and  give  the 
dramatic  student  a  rest  from  the  hurly-burly  of  our 
modern  drama.  He  took  part  in  the  successful  Bouci- 
cault  melodramas,  not  the  least  of  his  achievements 
being  his  acting  of  Moneypenny  in  "  The  Long  Strike," 
and  was  a  leading  figure  in  those  rapidly  dying,  if  not 
already  dead,  adaptations  of  "Rose  Michel,"  "The 
Danicheffs,"  "  Daniel  Rochat,"  and  a  dozen  and  more 
English  versions  of  the  reigning  Paris  sensations. 

In  later  years  he  has  found  a  prominent  place  in  the 
modern  drama  of  both  English  and  American  growth. 
His  Jacob  P^letcher,  in  Llenry  Arthur  Jones's  "Saints 
and  Sinners,"  will  always  be  remembered  for  its  down- 
right humanity,  its  sturdy  integrity,  and  its  homely  and 
beautiful  pathos,  dignifying  a  conventional  drama  of 
seduction  into  something  approaching  dramatic  worth. 
His  Colonel  Preston  in  Augustus  Thomas's  "  Alabama," 
helped  the  deserved  success  of  that  idyl  of  the  South  ; 
and  he  has  contributed  more  than  he  himself  appre- 
ciates to  the  popularity  of  the  modern  plays  presented 
during  his  service  with  Palmer's  company. 


MAURICE  BARRYMORE. 


MAURICE    BARRYMORE. 

By  Edward  Kales  Coward. 


Magnetism  is  as  essential  a  quality  in  the  make-up 
of  a  successful  actor  as  the  possession  of  genuine  tal- 
ent. Without  that  indefinable  quality  that  establishes 
a  bond  of  interest  between  player  and  auditor,  the 
most  carefully  prepared  effort  fails  in  its  effect  ;  and 
what  should  stir  and  inthrall  only  gives  satisfaction 
to  those  who  peer  beneath  the  result  and  study  the 
methods. 

The  history  of  the  stage  shows  that  the  great  actors 
were  and  are  sympathetic  ones.  The  shining  lights 
of  the  past  were  those  who  moved  by  the  warmth  of 
their  personalities  ;  and  the  actors  of  the  present  day 
who  stand  at  the  top  of  their  profession  are  players 
whose  individualities  attract  and  please.  There  have 
been  many  scholarly  actors,  whose  intelligence  and 
application  have  won  them  much  favorable  criticism 
and  approval ;  but  in  lacking  that  interest-compelling 
attribute,  they  have  failed  to  reach  that  place  in  the 
public  regard  which  is  usually  the  reward  of  superior 
excellence. 

The  sympathetic  actor  is  one  who  plays  from  the 
heart  and  soul.  It  is  he  who  moves  the  great  public, 
while  the  man  playing  from   the  head  can  only  hope 

241 


242  FAMOUS   AMERICAN   ACTORS   OF   TO-DAY. 

to  excite  the  appreciation  of  those  who  study  the 
drama  for  its  intellectual  significance.  The  measured, 
studied  school  yields  more  and  more  each  year  to  the 
realistic  demands  of  the  nineteenth  century,  and  those 
who  would  be  public  favorites  must  conform  strictly 
to  the  requirements  of  the  times. 

Few  actors  on  the  American  stage  of  to-day  have 
a  larger  personal  following  than  Maurice  Barrymore. 
The  subject  of  this  sketch  was  born  in  Cline,  England. 
His  father  was  a  clergyman,  and  he  himself  was  for 
a  time  at  Cambridge ;  but  a  leaning  toward  the  stage 
soon  drew  him  hence,  and  he  became  an  actor.  Few 
women  like  to  have  their  ages  known,  and  it  would 
seem  almost  only  fair  that  leading  men  should  be 
exempt  from  a  too  absolute  record  of  days  and  years. 
Mr.  Barrymore  is  of  an  interesting  age,  not  too  old 
to  have  lost  the  enthusiasm  of  youth,  and  not  too 
young  not  to  thoroughly  understand  all  the  emotions 
he  is  called  on  to  express. 

He  made  his  American  debut  at  the  l^oston  Theatre 
on  Jan.  23,  1875,  as  Captain  Molyneux  in  "The  Shaugh- 
raun,"  a  part  well  fitted  to  his  gallant  bearing  and 
manly  force.  On  Dec.  31,  1876,  he  became  related  to 
one  of  the  most  distinguished  American  theatrical 
families,  when  he  married  Georgiana  Drew,  daughter 
of  Mrs.  John  Drew  of  Philadeli)hia.  Mr.  Barrymore 
was  a  member  of  Mr.  Augustin  Daly's  company  at  the 
Fifth  Avenue  Theatre  in  Twenty-eighth  Street  during 
the  long  and  memorable  run  of  "Pique."  In  1879  he 
travelled  with  a  carefully  selected  company  in  "  Diplo- 
macy," when  at  Marshall,  Texas,  one  of  its  members, 
Benjamin  Porter,  was  shot  and  killed  at  the  railroad 
station  by  James  Curry,  a  noted  Texan  desperado. 
Barrymore  himself  was  severely  wounded. 


MAURICE   BARRYMORE.  243 

He  played  Captain  Absolute  with  Joseph  Jefferson 
when  that  actor  first  brought  out  his  reconstructed 
version  of  "The  Rivals,"  and  later  acted  all  the  lead- 
incr  roles  in  Madame  Modjeska's  varied  and  compre- 
hensive  repertoire. 

On  Feb.  8,  1884,  an  original  play  by  him,  entitled 
"  Nadjesda,"  was  produced  by  Modjeska  in  Baltimore, 
and  three  days  later  it  was  heard  for  the  first  time  in 
New  York.  It  was  subsequently  produced  in  London, 
where  Barry  more  remained  for  two  years  at  the  Hay- 
market,  and  where  he  won  golden  opinions  for  his  work 
as  Louis  Percival  in  "Jim  the  Penman,"  and  Count 
Orloff  in  "Diplomacy."  On  Sept.  19,  1887,  he  became 
leading  man  with  Mrs.  Langtry,  appearing  as  Jack 
Fortinbras  in  "As  in  a  Looking  Glass,"  and  Captain 
Bradford  in  "A  Wife's  Peril."  A  misunderstanding 
soon  followed  between  him  and  the  star,  and  the  en- 
gagement was  broken.  For  a  season- he  played  Lagar- 
dere  in  "  The  Duke's  Motto,"  and  then  again  appeared 
as  leading  man  with  Modjeska.  Bill  Lewis,  in  Augus- 
tus Thomas's  play,  "The  Burglar,"  and  Colonel  Pres- 
cott,  in  "Held  by  the  Enemy,"  were  parts  he  was 
sub-sequently  seen  in.  His  ne.xt  move  was  to  join  A. 
M.  Palmer's  company ;  and  under  that  management  he 
acted  the  title  role  in  "Captain  Swift,"  Captain  Bradley 
in  Thomas's  "  Man  of  the  World,"  Mark  Denzil  in 
"  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  Lord  Helmore  in  "  The  Phar- 
isee," and  Captain  Davenport  in  "  Alabama."  In  the 
fall  of  1890  a  starring  tour  was  projected.  "  Reckless 
Temple,"  the  play  in  which  he  appeared,  proved  a  fail- 
ure ;  an<l  for  lack  of  a  suitable  drama  Mr.  Barrymore 
once  more  resumetl  his  relations  with  Mr.  Palmer's 
organization,  playing  P'itzpatrick  in  "Colonel  Carter," 


244 


FAMOUS   AMERICAN    ACIORS   OF  TO-DAY. 


a  dramatization  of  F.  Hopkinson  Smith's  story;  Lord 
Darlington  in  "Lady  Windermere's  Fan,"  by  Oscar 
Wilde;  and  the  dashing  Captain  Laboissiere  in  Thomas 
Bailey  Aldrich's  poetic  tragedy,  "Mercedes." 

During  the  season  of  1893  and  1894  Mr.  Barrymore 
played  leading  roles  with  Mrs.  Bernard  Beere  during 
her  short  American  engagement  ;  acted  Jefferson 
Stockton  in  a  road  tour  of  "Aristocracy;"  created  in 
America  the  role  of  Lord  Illingworth  in  Rose  Cogh- 
lan's  production  of  "  A  Woman  of  No  Importance,"  by 
Oscar  Wilde  ;  supported  Katherine  Clemmons  in  her 
two  ill-starred  productions  of  "A  Lady  of  Venice"  and 
"Mrs.  Dascot;"  and  later  created  one  of  the  principal 
roles  in  Augustus  Thomas's  American  play,  "New 
Blood." 

In  the  fall  of  1894  Mr.  Barrymore  became  associated 
with  Olga  Nethersole,  supporting  that  talented  actress 
in  "  The  Transgressor,"  "  Camille,"  "  Frou-Frou,"  and 
"  Romeo  and  Juliet,"  until  the  close  of  her  first  Ameri- 
can tour,  when  he  went  to  Philadelphia  to  create  the 
leading  role  in  William  Gillette's  comedy  drama  of 
the  Civil  War,  "  Secret  Service."  A  still  later  part 
assumed  by  him  was  Captain  Alan  Kendrick  in  David 
Belasco's  stirring  war  drama,  "The  Heart  of  Mary- 
land." 

Of  the  parts  which  he  acted  with  Modjeska,  the 
better-known  ones  are  :  Mortimer,  "  Mary  Stuart ;  "  Ar- 
mand  Duval,  "Camille;"  Maurice  de  Saxe,  "Adricnne 
Lecouvreur ; "  Orsino,  "Twelfth  Night;"  Orlando, 
"  As  You  Like  It ; "  Romeo,  "  Romeo  and  Juliet ; "  and 
the  leading  heroic  role  in  "  The  Chouans." 

Mr.  Barrymore  is  a  very  popular  actor.  His  admi- 
rers are  legion  ;  but,  like  all  men  with  a  wide  following. 


MAURICE   BARRY-MORE.  245 

he  faces  those  who  do  not  share  the  opinion  of  the 
multitude.  To  judge  him  by  much  of  his  past  work, 
his  dearest  friend  must  admit  that  he  often  fails  to  do 
what  might  naturally  be  expected  of  a  man  of  his  tal- 
ents and  intelligence.  Probably  there  is  no  actor  on 
the  stage  to-day  who  is  so  variable  in  his  work  as  he 
is.  He  has  moments  of  great  power,  when  he  conclu- 
sively proves  that  he  has  it  in  him,  —  the  power  to 
achieve  wonderful  results ;  but  the  next  moment  a  care- 
lessness and  indifference  will  creep  in  that  mar  utterly 
the  recollection  of  his  previous  achievements. 

Mr.  Barrymore  has  been  signally  favored  by  nature. 
He  has  a  superb  physique,  an  expressive  eye,  a  well- 
modulated  voice,  and  a  face  of  great  classical  beauty. 
In  addition,  he  possesses  charm,  intelligence,  poetical 
sensibility,  a  virile  force,  and  magnetism.  And  yet 
with  all  these  inherent  qualities  of  such  great  impor- 
tance, it  cannot  be  denied  that  he  disappoints  at  times. 
It  is  not  that  he  has  been  carried  away  by  too  much 
praise  ;  for,  in  spite  of  all  the  adulation  he  has  received, 
he  is  extremely  modest.  The  apparent  want  of  sincer- 
ity which  occasionally  asserts  itself  is  not  lack  of  soul, 
but  .seems  rather  a  want  of  constant  ambition,  a  lack 
of  applied  artistic  purpose,  which,  after  all,  are  essential 
requirements  in  a  great  player. 

True  art  is  an  exacting  mistres.s,  and  cannot  be 
slighted.  She  demands  the  best  that  is  in  a  man,  and 
insists  that  he  shall  always  put  forth  his  greatest  en- 
deavors ;  but  he  must  himself  provide  the  spur,  and 
when  he  fails  to  live  up  to  her  requirements,  when  he 
.shows  a  lack  of  interest  in  his  work,  the  loss  of  effect 
is  at  once  .seen  in  the  result.  With  Mr.  liarrymore's 
talents  and  physical  advantages,  he  has  no  one  to  blame 


246  FAMOUS   AMERICAN   ACTORS  OF  TO-DAY. 

but  himself  if  he  does  not  always  stand  in  the  front 
rank  of  leadin<^  men.  He  has  demonstrated  time  and 
again  his  ability  to  perform  certain  roles  in  a  way  that 
leaves  little  to  be  desired ;  and  when  he  is  in  the  humor 
few  actors  can  hope  to  equal  him  in  his  particular  line 
of  theatrical  work. 

The  parts  best  associated  with  his  reputation  are 
Orlando  and  Captain  Swift.  These  two  impersonations 
are  performances  of  great  strength  and  beauty  ;  and, 
had  he  done  nothing  else,  they  would  still  entitle  him 
to  a  high  place  in  histrionic  ranks. 

Few  actors  known  to  modern  theatre-goers  better 
realize  the  hero  of  Shakespeare's  delightful  comedy 
than  does  Mr.  Barrymore.  His  muscular  figure,  manly 
force,  and  romantic  bearing  make  his  Orlando  an  ideal 
one  from  a  physical  standpoint ;  while  his  poetical  tem- 
perament and  hearty  warmth  of  manner  easily  account 
for  the  love  he  inspired  in  Rosalind  at  first  sight. 

He  awakens  interest  at  the  very  start.  His  im- 
passioned recital  of  the  wrongs  to  which  he  has  been 
subjected  by  his  brother  wins  instant  sympathy.  His 
gentle  treatment  of  the  faithful  old  servitor,  Adam, 
displays  tenderness  which  one  sees  at  once  is  sponta- 
neous ;  and  in  the  scene  with  the  wrestler,  Charles,  his 
manly  but  modest  bearing  stamps  his  impersonation 
with  a  masculinity  delightful  to  witness.  His  raillery 
of  the  melancholy  Jaques  shows  a  keen  appreciation  of 
humor,  which  is  most  happily  borne  out  when  he  agrees 
to  Rosalind's  proposition,  and  becomes  her  pujiil  in  the 
art  of  love.  His  kindly  treatment  of  his  youthful  pre- 
ceptor is  most  touchingly  expressed,  while  the  words 
showing  the  depth  of  his  passion  for  the  fair  Rosalind 
are  spoken  with  an  earnestness  and  feeling"  that  come 


MAURICE   BARRYMORE.  247 

directly  from  the  heart.  There  is  nothing  mawkish 
in  his  sentiment ;  it  is  honest  and  manly,  and  therein 
lies  the  secret  of  his  success  in  this  attractive  part. 

As  Captain  Swift,  in  the  title  role  of  Haddon  Cham- 
bers's powerful  and  realistic  play,  he  finds  a  splendid 
medium  for  the  display  of  his  emotional  powers.  Had 
the  part  been  written  for  him  it  could  not  have  fitted 
him  better,  and  no  role  he  has  of  late  been  called  upon 
to  play  has  so  thoroughly  brought  out  the  sterling  qual- 
ities of  his  art.  Although  Swift  in  Australia  was  noth- 
ing more  nor  less  than  a  highwayman,  who  robbed, 
probably,  because  it  was  easier  to  do  that  than  to  work, 
Mr.  Barrymore  invested  the  part  with  a  romanticism 
that  caused  one  to  overlo;)k  the  real  weakness  of  the 
man.  One  pardoned  his  rascalities  because  one  felt 
that  they  were  the  natural  outcome  of  an  impulsive 
nature.  Then,  too,  one  felt  assured  that,  no  matter 
how  mean  the  act  might  have  been,  it  was  surely  ac- 
comjjlished  with  a  courteousness  and  grace  that  made 
it  rather  an  honor  to  be  singled  out  by  such  a  dashing 
knight  of  the  road. 

All  this  Mr.  Barrymore  suggested  by  his  looks, 
manner,  and  bearing.  It  showed  an  ability  to  repre- 
sent character  by  the  subtlest  methods  of  an  actor's 
art.  Swift's  honorable  ambition  to  break  aw.iy  from 
his  criminal  past  was  nobly  expressed  ;  and  one  watched 
with  breathless  interest  his  gallant,  but  futile,  struggle 
to  win  anew  a  place  in  society.  Mis  scene  with  the 
revengeful  butler  showed  the  fiery  spirit  that  dwelt 
within  the  calm  exterior  ;  and  when  at  length,  despite  all 
his  praiseworthy  efforts  to  reform,  pris«)n-walls  stared 
him  in  the  face,  one  felt  that  fate  had  robbed  the  world 
of  a  noble  but  misguided  soul,  as  the  sounil  of  the 
pistol-shot  told  his  tcagic  end. 


248  FAMOUS   AMERICAN   ACTORS   OF  TO-DAY. 

Of  course  due  praise  must  be  given  to  Mr.  Chambers 
for  the  masterly  way  in  which  he  sketched  the  role  of 
Swift;  but  it  was  the  genius  of  a  true  artist  that  made 
it  real  and  human,  and  that  Mr.  Barrymore  most  cer- 
tainly did.  It  was  throughout  a  most  evenly  balanced 
delineation  of  character,  strong  in  color,  perfect  in  poise, 
and  sustained  in  its  power  and  beauty. 

These  two  parts  well  display  the  breadth  of  his 
powers.  Of  his  other  roles  it  need  only  be  said  that 
his  Count  Orloff,  in  "  Diplomacy,"  was  highly  praised 
in  London  for  its  reserved  strength  ;  that  his  Lagardere, 
in  "  The  Duke's  Motto,"  is  a  fine  study  of  the  roman- 
tic school;  that  his  Jack  Fortinbras,  in  "As  in  a 
Looking-Glass,"  is  a  splended  realization  of  that  happy- 
go-lucky  but  contemptible  blackguard ;  and  that  his 
Romeo  is  spirited,  picturesque,  and  Shakespearian- 
Mr.  Barrymore's  first  wife,  that  talented  comedienne, 
Georgie  Drew  Barrymore,  died  in  California  of  con- 
sumption, in  the  summer  of  1893.  His  present  wife  is 
Marie  Floyd,  daughter  of  the  late  W.  R.  Floyd,  for 
years  a  member  of  the  old  Wallack  stock  company. 

Besides  being  an  actor,  Mr.  Barrymore  is  also  an 
author.  "  Nadjesda,"  a  Russian  emotional  play,  was 
accepted  by  the  critics  as  a  well-constructed  drama  of 
strong,  moving  interest.  "The  Don,"  which  was  acted 
in  Chicago,  though  not  altogether  a  success,  was  praised 
for  the  excellent  writing  it  contained.  But  it  is  as 
an  actor  that  Mr.  Barrymore  shines,  and  as  such  he 
has  given  unbounded  pleasure  to  thousands.  With  his 
splendid  talents  and  noble  presence,  it  is  only  a  question 
of  time  when  he  will  attain  even  jicreater  eminence. 


ROSE  COGHLAN. 


ROSE     COGHLAN. 

By  Frederic  Edward  McKay. 


The  first  time  I  heard  Rose  Coghian's  voice,  it 
seemed  to  me  the  yEolian  harp  had  been  vivified. 
Ever  since,  when  tired  by  the  din  of  the  town,  I  have 
let  my  ears  be  soothed  by  her  mellifluous  vocalism. 

I  can  think  of  no  player  upon  our  stage  that  can 
delineate  with  more  power  and  finesse  than  can  .she 
the  subtle  feminine  emotions,  whether  good  or  evil. 
I  should  call  her  the  most  effective  stage  exponent, 
at  the  present  time,  of  "The  Woman  at  Bay." 

However  lingering  in  our  memory  are  her  Peg 
Woffington  and  her  Lady  Teazle,  their  effervescing 
coquetry  subcharged  with  tenderness  and  pathos,  it  is 
her  Stephanie  and  her  Countess  Zicka  that  stand  out 
as  commanding  officers,  so  to  speak,  of  her  battalion 
of  parts. 

Stephanie  and  Zicka,  I  take  it,  arc  the  most  tren- 
chantly conceived  and  vitally  swayed  of  any  of  the 
so-called  Adventuresses  of  the  standard  drama.  It  is 
by  Miss  Coghian's  innumerable  suggestive  intimations 
that  there  are  gentle  impulses  imprisoned  within  the 
hardened  crusts  contact  with  the  world  has  forced 
around  the  characters  of  these  unfortunate  women  ;  it 
is  by  the  at  first  defiant  and  finally  pleading  duel  of 

249 


250         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

words  between  Stephanie  and  Horace  Welby,  and  Zicka 
and  Julian  Bcauclerc  ;  it  is  by  the  wail  of  anguish 
that  escapes  from  the  actress  immersed  in  these  roles, 
—  that  Miss  Coghlan  commands  her  unique  and  high 
position  in  the  uneven  field  of  action  of  the  theatre. 
Nor  should  I  neglect  to  mention,  in  this  connection, 
her  superb  performance  of  Ksther  Eccles  in  "  Caste," 
in  which,  when  last  I  saw  her  play  it,  the  capital 
heightening  of  effect  that  may  be  given  to  a  role  by 
the  sympathetic  performance  of  a  companion  character 
was  nicely  indicated  by  Florence  Gerard's  (Mrs.  Henry 
E.  Abbey's)  delightfully  buoyant  ami  adroit  rendering 
of  Polly. 

It  is  the  fashion  here,  in  considering  the  stage,  to 
forget  an  old  for  a  new  favorite  at  the  drop  of  the  hat. 
Note  the  elevation  of  Duse,  whom  we  have  known 
three  years,  above  Bernhardt,  who  for  si.xteen  years 
has  held  us  in  the  hollow  of  her  art.  It  is  therefore 
especially  pleasant  to  chronicle  that,  in  the  case  of 
Miss  Coghlan,  this  fashion  has  not  obtained.  Except- 
ing Adelaide  Neilson,  no  actress  from  across  the  At- 
lantic has  crept  farther  into  our  hearts  or  remained 
there  longer  than  has  she.  The  United  States  has 
never  loved  another  English  actor  as  it  loved  Harry 
Montague,  nor  another  English  actress  as  it  has  Rose 
Coghlan,  the  wide-eyed,  velvet-voiced,  caressing,  fasci- 
nating, divinely  smiling.  Eight  or  nine  seasons  ago, 
at  what  is  now  Palmer's  Theatre,  when  she  was  thirtv 
odd  years  of  age,  and  appeared  in  "  Moths,"  you  mar- 
velled, I  presume,  that  she  looked  not  fifteen  minutes 
older  than  eighteen.  When  she  presented  herself  as 
Zicka  in  "Diplomacy,"  you  wondered  why  such  a  crea- 
ture had  escaped  the  morganatic  fancy  of  a  king.     You 


ROSE    COGHLAN.  25  I 

saw  her  on  the  first  night,  perhaps,  of  "  Forget-Me- 
Not,"  at  Wallack's  old  Thirteenth  Street  Theatre,  and 
months  afterwards  you  wondered  why  the  play  was  not 
written  for  her  instead  of  for  Genevieve  Ward. 

Tilly  Price  at  the  Court  Theatre,  London,  when  she 
was  a  snip  of  a  girl,  in  1870,  in  a  dramatization  of 
"Nicholas  Nickleby,"  was  Miss  Coghlan's  first  per- 
formance that  got  within  the  favor  of  the  public.  She 
was  then  seventeen,  having  been  born  in  1853,  in 
Peterboro,  England,  She  took  to  the  stage  most  natu- 
rally. Her  father,  the  late  Francis  Coghlan,  Esquire, 
was  a  journalist  and  a  litterateur  of  ability  enough  to 
be  within  the  circle  composed  of  John  Delaine,  Fred- 
erick Greenwood,  Bulvver  Lytton,  Charles  Reade,  John 
Forester,  and  Charles  Dickens.  He  was  the  founder 
of  "Coghlan's  Continental  Dispatch,"  and  of  "Cogh- 
lan's Continental  Guides  ;"  but  I  think  we  are  indebted 
to  him  for  Rose  and  for  her  brilliant  brother  Charles 
more  than  for  those  publications.  And  let  me  add  here 
a  word  about  Charles  Coghlan  ;  for  he  is  far  and  away 
the  best  actor  of  roles  calling  for  savoir  fairc,  aplomb, 
and  nonchalance,  that  has  stepped  upon  the  stage  since 
Lester  Wallack.  It  was  in  1875,  I  believe,  that  Au- 
gustin  Daly  imported  Charles  from  the  Strand  to  Broatl- 
way  to  stem  the  tide  that  flowed  every  night  and  every 
matinee  toward  Wallack's,  where  Rose  Coghlan  and 
Harry  Montague  were  playing  opposite  to  each  otlur. 

We  must  thank  Charles  for  the  Rose  we  know.  Or, 
to  be  precise,  let  us  say  that  it  was  Charles  Coghlan's 
first  wife  who  was  responsible  for  Rose's  becoming  an 
actress,  since  that  lady  was  on  the  stage  when  Charles, 
then  a  lawyer,  married  her ;  and  inasmuch  as  Mrs. 
Coghlan   had   shown  hitn  the  way  through  the  stage- 


252         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY 

door,  I  presume  he  thought  turn  about  fair  play,  and 
beckoned  his  sister  in  the  same  direction.  At  any 
rate,  it  is  proper  to  say  here  that  Miss  Coghlan's  de- 
cision to  turn  actress  was  the  cause  of  much  terror  to 
her  deeply  religious  mother,  who  had  intended  Rose 
for  a  nunnery. 

(In  strict  parenthesis,  I  should  like  to  ask  what  pro- 
portion, if  any,  of  our  players  was  not  intended  origi- 
nally for  either  the  priesthood  or  the  convent  ?  If  you 
will  point  out  to  me  a  child  intended  by  its  parents  for 
one  of  these  destinations,  I  will  point  out  to  you  at  the 
same  time  the  future  Thespian.) 

After  a  brief  season  of  performances  upon  the  ama- 
teur stage,  through  which  she  seems  to  have  passed 
without  injury,  Miss  Coghlan  made  her  professional 
debut  at  Greenwich,  Scotland.  She  was  one  of  the 
witches  in  "  Macbeth."  That  is  not  a  character  of 
much  opportunity,  but  in  this  case  it  made  an  excellent 
springboard,  for  two  years  afterward  we  find  that  she 
had  leaped  into  the  role  of  Lady  Macbeth  herself ;  and 
we  are  told  that,  young  as  she  was,  she  invested  the 
character  of  the  bloody-handed  wife  of  the  bloody-souled 
Scot  with  a  very  considerable  amount  of  dastardly 
significance. 

In  those  days  Miss  Coghlan  revelled  in  boys'  parts. 
She  could  play  Nicholas  Nickleby  or  Smike  as  well  as 
she  could  Tilly  Price.  In  those  days,  too,  she  could 
sing  like  John  Keats's  Nightingale.  After  her  hit  as 
Tilly,  she  supported  in  turn  Adelaide  Neilson  and 
John  L.  Toole.  She  was  with  Toole  a  year ;  and  it 
was  while  she  was  playing  with  him  that  E.  A.  Sothern 
saw  her,  liked  her,  and  brought  her  to  the  United 
States.     Let  it  be  quite  clear,  therefore,  that  we  owe 


ROSE    COGHLAN.  253 

Sothern  a  double  debt  of  gratitude ;  for  if  it  had  not 
been  for  him,  we  might  possibly  never  have  seen  Rose 
Coghlan  in  this  hemisphere,  and  would  certainly  never 
have  seen  E.  H.  Sothern. 

Miss  Coghlan's  first  appearance  in  this  country  was 
in  the  dramatization  of  Wilkie  Collins's  "  The  Woman 
in  White."  The  date  was  1871.  The  piece  was  not 
a  success,  and  then  Rose  joined  the  Lydia  Thompson 
IJurlesque  Company.  Her  statuesque  photoi^raphs  as 
a  boy  in  "  I.vion  "  I  have  chanced  upon  in  the  photo- 
graph collections  of  Everett  Wendell.  Bored  by  bur- 
lesque, however.  Miss  Coghlan  accepted  from  Mr. 
Wallack  the  then  royal  salary  of  seventy-five  dollars  a 
week,  and  made  a  pronounced  success  in  Thayre  Smith's 
one-act  comedy,  "A  Happy  Pair."  She  played  several 
other  light-comedy  parts  at  Wallack's  before  returning 
in  1873  to  England.  In  London  she  was  especially 
engaged  to  support  Charles  Mathews  in  Foote's  "  The 
Liar."  After  pleasing  Londoners  in  the  role  of  Miss 
Grantham  in  that  comedy,  she  was  engaged  for  a  series 
of  rather  pretentious  Shakespearian  revivals  at  the 
Princess's  Theatre,  ALanchester.  Tiiere  she  jilaved 
Viola  in  "Twelfth  Night"  more  than  two  hundred 
consecutive  times.  That  in  itself  speaks  elocjuently 
for  her  rare  development,  even  then,  in  her  art.  Harry 
Sullivan  was  the  star.  She  finally  left  Mr.  liarry 
Sullivan,  —  feeling  intuitively  maybe  that  the  future 
held  in  store  for  her  Mr.  John  T.  Sullivan,  whom  she 
married  while  he  was  professionally  associated  with  her 
as  "leading  man,"  — and  returned  again  to  London. 

If  you  had  droj)ped  into  the  St.  James  Theatre  during 
the  next  four  hundred  nights,  you  would  have  .seen  her 
as  Lady  Manden,  one  of  her  most  noteworthy  imper- 


2  54        FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

sonations,  in  "  All  For  Her."  During  this  long  run 
she  had  a  capital  opportunity  to  study,  whereas  with 
Barry  Sullivan  she  iiad  to  play  in  one  season  sixteen 
leading  parts.  While  at  the  St.  James  she  read  the 
works  of  every  dramatist,  from  Marlowe,  Shakespeare, 
Beaumont,  Fletcher,  Jonson,  Racine,  Molierc,  Congreve, 
Wycherly,  Otway,  Sheridan,  Foote,  Goldsmith,  to  Bou- 
cicault,  Tom  Taylor,  Tom  Robertson,  and  H.  J.  Byron. 
Study  was  her  delight  then,  as  it  is  to-day  ;  and  Rose 
Coghlan  at  this  stage  of  her  career  thinks  that  her  life 
would  have  been  happier  in  a  country  house  surrounded 
by  those  she  cares  for  than  in  the  incessant  glare  and 
glitter  of  the  play-house. 

Her  hit  in  "All  for  Her"  was  as  gratifying  as  her 
hit  the  season  before  in  "  East  Lynne."  "  All  for 
Her,"  by  the  way,  was  written  by  Herman  Merivale, 
the  author  subsequently  of  "  Forget-Me-Not,"  the  play 
that  did  more  than  any  other  in  which  she  has  been 
seen  to  put  her  in  the  front  rank.  News  of  her  per- 
formance in  "All  for  Her"  reached  Lester  Wallack, 
and  he  cabled  her  to  come  over  to  his  theatre  again. 
At  that  time  her  brother  Charles  was  leading  man  at 
Wallack's.  It  was  then,  too,  that  she  made  her  part 
of  Clarisse  Harlowe,  in  the  play  of  that  name  by  Bouci- 
cault,  the  uniquely  successful  feature  of  a  piece  that 
was  about  as  dull  and  objectionable  as  Richardson's 
novel  of  the  same  title. 

After  a  short,  sharp,  and  decisive  engagement  at 
Wallack's,  Miss  Coghlan  went  to  San  Francisco.  The 
Californians  took  to  her  at  once ;  and  she  has  been 
ever  since  a  great  favorite  west  of  the  Rockies,  in  spite 
of  the  fact  that  others  indorsed  in  the  East  have  not 
shared  a  similar  fortune. 


ROSE   COG H LAN.  255 

Upon  her  return  to  New  York  she  appeared  at 
Booth's  Theatre,  in  another  doleful  drama  by  Bouci- 
cault,  called  "  The  Rescue."  It  was  during  that  en- 
gagement, by  the  way,  that  Boucicault  appeared  as 
Louis  XI.  with  a  ripe  and  rich  Dublin  accent.  From 
Booth's  and  Boucicault  was  but  a  step  back  to  Wal- 
lack's.  She  took  it,  and  it  was  one  of  the  happiest  of 
her  life.  The  first  part  she  played  there  was  Stephanie 
in  "  Forget-Me-Not,"  with  Osmond  Tearle  as  Horace 
VVelby.  That  was  the  hit  of  her  career.  If  ever  a 
house  was  electrified,  it  was  on  that  first  night  of  that 
fine  play  of  cross-purposes  and  flashing  sallies.  The 
next  day  Rose  Coghlan  was  the  talk  of  two  towns, 
New  York  and  London.  In  the  latter  city  Genevieve 
Ward  overheard  the  talk  ;  and  as  the  play  was  her  prop- 
erty, she  got  out  an  injunction  restraining  Mr.  Wallack 
from  presenting  it.  Then  she  came  over  and  staged 
it  at  the  theatre  in  New  York  then  called  the  Fifth 
Avenue.  The  public,  however,  was  indifferent  to  Miss 
Ward's  conscientious  work.  It  wanted  Rose  Coghlan  ; 
and  as  it  could  not  have  her  in  that  particular  play,  it 
carefully  stayed  away  from  Miss  Ward. 

After  "  Forget-Me-Not,"  Rose  Coghlan  appeared  at 
Wallack's  in  *'  La  Belle  Russe,"  a  palpable  imitation 
of  "  F'orget-Me-Not,"  in  which  she  had  nothing  to  do 
but  originate  the  jjrincipal  part.  Then  followed  a  long 
line  of  successes,  notably  in  "The  World,"  "A  Scrap 
of  Paper,"  "Youth,"  "The  Silver  King,"  "The  Lyons 
Mail,"  "  Moths,"  and  "  Laily  Clare,"  as  well  as  imper- 
sonations which  took  fast  hold  upon  New  York  theatre- 
goers in  many  of  the  old  comedy  revivals  at  Wallack's 
in  those  golden  days  of  art  in  theatrical  New  York  — 
days  which  came  to  a  close  when  the  final  curtain  was 


256        FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF    TO-DAY. 

dropped  on  the  Wallack  Theatre  Stock  Company,  which 
during  its  last  two  seasons  was  under  the  direction  of 
Henry  E.  Abbey.  The  last  play  performed  by  that 
famous  organization  at  Wallack's  (May  5,  1888)  was 
"The  School  for  Scandal,"  in  which  Miss  Coghlan,  of 
course,  appeared  as  Lady  Teazle. 

Shortly  after  Mr.  Abbey  assumed  the  management 
of  the  company  Miss  Coghlan  left  it  to  star  under  the 
direction  of  Augustus  Pitou  ;  but  as  Charles  Coghlan's 
play,  "  Jocelyn,"  was  not  finished  for  her  on  scheduled 
time,  she  returned  to  Wallack's  for  a  short  engage- 
ment. On  April  7,  1885,  "Our  Joan,"  written  by 
Merivale  and  Dale,  was  produced  at  Wallack's.  Rose 
Coghlan  appeared  in  the  title  role,  and  the  piece  was 
quite  a  success.  Then  she  went  starring  in  "  Jocelyn," 
"Lady  Barter,"  "Princess  Olga,"  and  "The  Idol  of 
the  Hour."  During  her  engagement  at  the  Union 
Square  Theatre  in  1887  she  appeared  as  Lady  Gay 
Spanker,  Peg  Woffington  and  Rosalind,  Zicka  in  "  Di- 
plomacy," and  Stephanie  in  "  Forget-Me-Not." 

I  should  not  neglect  to  mention  here  that  she  was 
cast  for  the  role  of  the  Player  Queen  in  the  all-star 
production  of  "  Hamlet  "  at  the  Metropolitan  Opera 
House,  on  May  21,  1888,  in  honor  of  the  retirement 
from  the  stage  of  Lester  Wallack.  Suzanne  in  "  A 
Scrap  of  Paper  "  seems  to  be  her  favorite  part ;  but  the 
public,  I  surmise,  would  rather  see  her  Lady  Teazle 
or  her  Peg  Wofiington,  and  I  think  it  would  go  farthest 
of  all,  as  I  have  intimated,  to  witness  her  Zicka  or  her 
Stephanie. 

Consider  her  marvellous  range  !  From  Tilly  Price  to 
Stephanie  !     From  Smike  to  Lady  Macbeth  ! 

After  this  Miss  Coghlan  deviated  unfortunately  into 


ROSE    COGHLAN.  257 

the  realm  of  flippant  and  frippery  farcial  comedy.  I 
need  merely  mention  "  Dorothy's  Dilemma."  She  was 
actuated  by  the  belief  that  the  public  wanted  only  that 
kind  of  piece.  She  was  fortunately  mistaken,  and 
found  out  that  fact.  The  next  play  worth  mentioning 
in  which  she  appeared  was  Oscar  Wilde's  "  A  Woman 
of  No  Importance."  It  would  have  been  a  success  if 
good  acting  by  a  splendid  company  could  have  made 
it  so,  for  the  star  never  sought  to  .shine  by  contrast. 
But  "A  Woman  of  No  Importance"  was  not  an  acting 
play ;  it  was  a  magazine  article  ;  and  even  the  patching 
and  tinkering  of  the  intellectual  and  ingenious  Charles 
Coghlan,  who  was  co-starring  with  his  sister  at  that 
time,  could  not  dramatize  it. 

"  Nemesis  "  was  not  a  success  ;  nor  could  Duse,  Bern- 
hardt, Ristori,  Rachel,  and  Rose  Coghlan  rolled  into 
one  have  made  it  so.  In  Charles  Coghlan's  "  Madame," 
which  Miss  Coghlan  has  produced  at  Palmer's  Theatre, 
we  see  her  impersonating  a  role  that  is  a  half-sister, 
as  it  were,  of  Stephanie  and  Zicka,  —  a  woman  loving  a 
man  that  loves  a  younger  and  less  worldly  woman,  and 
who  compels  a  thoroughly  unselfish  interest  in  the 
hero's  welfare  to  dominate  her. 

To  sum  up,  as  I  have  heard  it  said  :  — 

Rose  Coghlan 's  successes  have  not  been  accidents. 
She  has  climbed  from  the  lowest  to  tiie  highest  round 
of  the  histrionic  ladder,  not  in  one  night,  but  in  twenty- 
si.\  long  years  of  the  hardest  work.  I  have  yet  to  see 
her  in  a  part  she  has  not  impregnated  with  throbbing 
humanity.  Her  simulated  passion  seems  unforced. 
With  unusual  skill  she  gives  to  j)remeditated  speech 
and  action  the  semblance  of  spontaneity.  Her  voice 
is  music,  her  u.sc  of  the  English  language  is  impeccable, 


258        FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

her  figure  is  symmetrical,  her  movements  have  a  grace 
that  is  almost  leonine,  and  her  face  is  of  that  rare  kind 
that  is  as  charming  when  convulsed  with  grief  as  when 
radiant  with  joy. 

Rose  Coghlan  portrays  love  as  if  her  heart  were 
on  her  lips  ;  grief,  as  if  she  had  just  lost  her  dearest 
friend  ;  anxiety,  as  if  life  or  death  hung  upon  the  next 
moment ;  and  jealousy,  as  if  she  were  the  reincarnation 
of  Othello's  foster-sister. 

When  she  drops  from  among  the  stars,  the  theatrical 
firmament  will  indeed  be  in  mourning  ;  and  innumerable 
opera-glasses,  levelled  for  a  long  time  by  the  amateur, 
as  well  as  the  professional,  astrologer  in  the  stalls,  will 
be  put  back  indefinitely  in  their  cases. 

For  after  the  beam  of  a  Venus,  one  is  not  content 
with  a  shimmer  of  the  Milky-Way. 


W.  J.   LE  MOYNE. 


WILLIAM    J.     LE     MOYNE. 

By  William  F.  Gilchrest. 


There  are  certain  roles  in  theatrical  representations 
that  are  comparatively  easy  to  play.  Such  characters  as 
Romeo,  Charles  Surface,  Don  Caesar  dc  Bazan,  and  the 
like,  while  they  require  a  certain  amount  of  dramatic 
ability,  even  genius,  are  nevertheless  greatly  aided  by 
the  surroundings  and  the  situation,  enlisting  as  they 
do  the  sympathy  of  an  audience  at  once. 

There  is  a  gradual  ascent  from  these  to  the  more 
difficult  characters,  those  that  require  a  vast  amount  of 
genius  to  be  properly  presented,  and  which  are  opposed 
in  sentiment  to  the  good  graces  of  mankind. 

But  to  my  mind  the  most  difficult  line  in  the  entire 
list  is  that  of  the  character  actor.  Here  the  man,  if  he 
is  true  to  his  art,  and  if  he  desires  to  properly  present 
his  part  with  the  unities  preserved,  must  forget  self, 
must  sink  his  identity  in  the  character  he  jiortrays, 
and,  if  it  be  necessary,  he  must  make  himself  actually 
repulsive  to  his  audience. 

This  is  not  a  pleasant  thing  to  do.  While  in  a  role 
that  requires  only  good  looks  and  a  handsome  costume 
many  an  actor  may  win  success,  it  is  quite  another 
thing  to  appear  in  a  part  that  can  only  be  port  raved  in 
a  style  that  is  the  very  reverse  of  the  former.     Hence 

259 


260        FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF    TO-DAY. 

we  find  few  actors  of  character  parts ;  they  prefer  to 
appear  in  a  role  that  wins  sympathy  and  applause. 

Now,  an  actor  who  really  loves  his  art  is  apt  to  pre- 
fer the  "  character "  rather  than  the  romantic  part. 
He  sees  that  in  his  chosen  line  there  is  abundant 
opportunity  to  display  his  talent  as  an  actor,  and  his 
ability  in  the  line  of  "making  up." 

In  the  list  of  Americans  who  fret  their  fitful  hour 
upon  the  stage,  William  J.  Le  Moyne  has  few  equals, 
and  I  feel  certain  he  has  no  superior,  as  a  character 
actor.  Those  people  who  know  him  well  as  an  actor 
find  much  to  admire  in  the  various  personations  of  this 
artist,  who  hides  his  identity  completely  by  his  admi- 
rable method  of  "  making  up." 

Mr.  Le  Moyne  is  a  devoted  student  in  his  chosen 
profession,  and  at  the  present  time  he  is  at  the  height 
of  his  dramatic  career.  No  easy  task  has  it  been. 
Born  in  a  period  when  there  were  giants  of  the  profes- 
sion on  the  stage,  —  Forrest,  Burton,  Wallack  senior,  the 
Placides,  and  William  Warren,  —  he  found  no  opportu- 
nity to  thrust  himself  into  a  prominent  position,  as  many 
an  actor  of  a  later  day  has  done.  He  was  content,  per- 
force, to  begin  on  the  traditional  "  first  round  "  of  the 
theatrical  ladder.  His  first  appearance  was  not  made 
in  the  presence  of  a  house  well  filled  with  admiring 
friends,  nor  was  he  overwhelmed  with  floral  tributes. 
The  newspapers  of  that  period  did  not  contain,  on  the 
morning  after  his  dSut,  lavish  praise  on  his  perform- 
ance, written  by  callow  youths  whose  judgment  of  an 
actor's  capabilities  was  circumscribed  by  an  experience 
with  society  plays.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  new.s- 
papers  did  not  contain  one  word  relative  to  his  rendi- 
tion of  one  of  the  officers  in  "  The  Lady  of  Lyons." 


WILLIAM    J.  LE    MOYNE.  26 1 

There  was  a  long  and  weary  road  before  the  young 
and  ambitious  actor.  But  he  was  not  dismayed.  He 
was  in  good  company,  and  with  an  unusual  amount  of 
good  sense  he  was  content  to  learn  something  of  the 
dramatic  art  from  his  superiors. 

William  J.  Le  Moyne  was  born  in  the  city  of  Boston 
sixty  odd  years  ago;  and  he  made  his  first  professional 
appearance  in  1852,  in  "The  Lady  of  Lyons,"  as  I  have 
already  stated.  His  debut  was  at  Portland,  Me.  He 
had  previously  been  known  in  the  amateur  ranks. 

When  the  great  Civil  War  broke  out,  he  went  to  the 
front  with  the  Twenty-eighth  Massachusetts  Volun- 
teers, as  first  lieutenant  in  a  company  of  which 
Lawrence  Barrett  was  the  captain.  Mr.  Barrett  soon 
resigned,  and  Mr.  Le  Moyne  was  advanced  to  the  va- 
cant position.  He  was  as  good  a  soldier  as  he  had 
been  an  actor.  At  the  battle  of  South  Mountain  he 
was  severely  wounded,  and  the  war  closed  before  he 
fully  recovered. 

After  a  successful  career  in  his  native  city,  he  came 
to  that  Mecca  of  all  professional  men.  New  York ;  and 
during  two  seasons,  1871-1873  and  1872-1873,  lie  was  in 
Daly's  company.  His  finished  portrayal  of  every  char- 
acter he  appeared  in  attracted  attention,  as  the  news- 
papers of  those  years  attest.  Five  years  later,  in  1877, 
he  was  a  member  of  that  talented  band  of  actors  that 
made  the  Union  Square  Theatre  famous  throughout 
the  United  States.  He  held  a  prominent  position,  and 
was  known  to  New  York  people  so  well  that  they  were 
not  content,  when  he  left  that  theatre,  until  he  was 
once  more  settled  in  the  metropolis,  at  the  Lyceum 
Theatre. 

Mr.    Le    Moyne     has,    in    his    time,    *'  played   many 


262  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTOR?;    OF   TO-DAY. 

parts,"  from  grave  to  gay.  He  is  equally  at  home  in 
characters  of  "the  old  school"  and  in  modern  drama. 
Nothing  could  be  farther  apart,  from  a  dramatic  stand- 
point, than  Sir  Peter  Teazle  and  Wormwood  in  "  The 
Lottery  Ticket;"  yet  the  stately  Sir  Peter  and  the 
cranky  old  Wormwood  were  each  rendered  in  a  manner 
to  commend  themselves  to  the  public.  In  many  plays 
Mr.  Le  Moyne  has  also  played  many  parts,  for  he  rose 
by  degrees.  For  instance,  in  "The  School  for  Scan- 
dal," he  has  played,  at  different  times.  Snake,  Careless, 
Rowley,  Moses,  Crabtree,  Sir  Oliver,  and  Sir  Peter. 
What  could  be  more  diverse  ?  Yet  each  part  evoked 
favorable  criticism.  So,  in  like  manner,  he  has  played 
through  the  casts  of  nearly  all  the  standard  plays. 

One  of  Mr.  Le  Moyne's  characteristics  is  fidelity. 
This  does  not  refer  merely  to  his  acting,  it  applies  to 
his  make-up.  He  sinks  self  ;  and  the  bluff,  nervous 
Major  Putnam,  in  "The  Wife,"  is  as  distinct  from, 
for  instance,  his  Sleek,  in  "  The  Serious  Family,"  as 
though  the  parts  were  played  by  different  men. 

And  all  his  acting  is  marked  by  conscientious  work 
and  faithful  detail.  In  stage  "business"  he  is  unsur- 
passed, a  fact  that  has  been  commented  upon  time  and 
again.  In  old  comedy,  Mr.  Le  Moyne  is,  perhaps,  at 
his  best ;  his  early  schooling  in  stage  work  has  fitted 
him  for  this.  He  has  all  the  old-time  grace  of  a  day 
that  has  long  since  departed,  but  his  keen  insight  has 
prevented  him  from  becoming  a  "Jeremiah"  to  mourn 
over  "  old  times  "  and  old-time  methods.  He  has  ad- 
vanced with  the  times,  kept  pace,  as  it  were;  and  on 
the  methods  that  once  prevailed  he  has  grafted  the 
methods  of  the  modern  days,  and  so  nicely  has  it  been 
done  that  it  forms  one  harmonious  whole.     This,  after 


WILLIAM   J.  LE    MOVNE.  263 

all,  is  one  of  the  principal  reasons  why  he  can  play  in 
modern  comedy  with  all  the  grace  and  subtlety  of  a 
past  generation.  He  is  one  of  the  few  remaining 
artists  of  a  school  of  acting  that  never  again  will  be, 
when  its  present  exponents  have  made  their  final 
exit. 

Among  the  hits  that  Mr.  Le  Moyne  has  made  are  : 
Sir  Harcourt  Courtley  in  "  London  Assurance  ;  "  Cap- 
tain Cuttle  in  "  Dombey  and  Son;"  Uriah  Heep  in 
"  Little  Em'ly,"  one  of  the  best  pieces  of  character 
acting  on  the  boards,  equal  to  Mr.  Le  Moyne's  Squeers 
in  "Nicholas  Nickleby  ;  "  Mousta  in  "  Broken  Hearts  ;  " 
Sir  Anthony  in  "The  Rivals,"  a  character  in  which  he 
stands  without  a  peer  ;  Silky  in  "  The  Road  to  Ruin  ;  " 
Solon  Shingle  in  "  The  People's  Lawyer  ; "  Paul  Pry  ; 
Jesse  Rural  in  "Old  Heads  and  Young  Hearts,"  a  lov- 
able personation  ;  Quilp  in  "  The  Old  Curiosity  Shop  ;" 
Fagin  in  "Oliver  Twist;"  The  Baron  in  "Jim  the 
Penman  ;  "  Mr.  Symperson  in  "  Engaged  ;  "  Bonham 
Sheviot  in  "The  Highest  Bidder;"  Haggard  in  "Saints 
and  Sinners  ; "  Dominie  Sampson  in  "  Guy  Manner- 
ing  ;"  and  Gaffer  King.sley  in  "  Squire  Kate."  This 
role  of  the  old  miser,  Gaffer  Kingsley,  is  one  that  gives 
Mr.  Le  Moyne  an  opportunity  to  develop  his  special 
characteristics;  and  he  has  done  so  to  the  delight  of 
his  auditors  and  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  critics,  who 
were  unanimous  in  praise  of  his  work. 

Past  threescore  years  of  age,  this  actor  belies  old 
time,  for  he  has  all  the  appearance  of  a  man  of  fifty. 
Genial  and  generous,  he  has  a  host  of  friends  ;  and 
he  stands  as  a  living  example  to  the  younger  gen- 
eration of  actors  of  the  advantage  of  not  being  a 
man-about-town.     His  mode  of  life  and  his  methods  of 


264        FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACrOKS    OF    TO-DAY. 

acting  alike  commend  themselves  to  younger  profes- 
sionals, who  may  study  both  to  their  great  advantage. 

When  I  asked  Mr.  Le  Moyne  which  of  the  many 
characters  that  he  had  appeared  in  he  liked  best,  he 
admitted  frankly  that  he  could  not  tell.  He  said  that 
he  preferred  a  part  in  which  comedy  and  pathos  were 
mingled. 

It  has  been  said  by  a  writer  that  there  was  only  one 
true  method  of  judging  a  man,  and  that  was  by  his 
home  life.  Taking  that  as  a  standard,  I  believe  that 
this  actor  is  as  excellent  in  his  home  as  he  is  on  the 
stage.  Of  the  old  school,  he  is  not  one  of  that  class 
that  constantly  prates  of  the  superiority  of  the  past, 
and  he  has  none  of  the  severe  ways  of  the  old  time. 
He  combines  the  actor  and  the  gentleman  in  his  per- 
son, and  his  pleasant  and  beautiful  home  is  filled  with 
everything  that  betokens  a  man  of  culture. 

In  the  midst  of  a  busy  career  he  has  found  time  to 
indulge  in  a  desire  for  painting  in  water  colors,  and 
many  of  his  pictures  that  grace  the  walls  of  his  cosey 
home  are  worthy  of  high  praise.  While  not  a  book- 
worm, Mr.  Le  Moyne  has  a  passion  for  old  books,  and 
on  his  library  shelves  are  volumes  that  would  com- 
mand high  prices,  picked  up  here  and  there  in  old 
book-stores. 

In  fact,  everything  about  his  home  shows  the  artis- 
tic taste  of  its  owner.  There  are  pictures  of  Chi- 
nese actors,  rare  plaques,  pipes  of  all  sizes  from  many 
lands,  a  whale's  tooth  from  Nantucket  and  an  idol 
from  a  Chinese  temple,  shoes  that  were  worn  by  dainty 
feet  a  century  ago  and  sabots  made  by  the  vSwcdes  of 
the  northwest,  statuettes  from  Mexico  and  ornaments 
from   Japan,    beautiful    examples   of    noted    American 


WILLIAM    J.  LE    MOYNE.  265 

painters,  an  autograph  letter  from  that  prig  of  liter- 
ary men,  Sir  Edward  Bulvver  Lytton,  and  last,  but  not 
least  as  regards  numbers,  horseshoes  in  infinite  vari- 
ety, one  of  which  Mr.  Le  Moyne  considers  almost  a 
"  mascot."  He  found  it  on  a  Friday,  on  Thirteenth 
Street,  with  seven  nails  intact. 

One  of  the  most  pleasant  features  of  the  Lc  Moyne 
home  is  the  lady  who  presides  over  it,  Mrs.  Sarah 
Cowell  Le  Moyne,  the  well-known  reader,  who  serves  to 
adorn  the  pleasant  rooms  with  her  cheerful  presence. 


EDMUND    MILTON    HOLLAND. 

By  George  Parsons  Lathrop. 


The  evolution  of  a  perfected  comedian's  talent  is 
always  matter  of  interesting  study  and  useful  record. 
When  its  result  appears  before  us,  —  living,  breathing, 
full  of  charm,  and  potent  with  illusion,  —  how  many  of 
us  even  think  of  going  back  to  the  origin  and  growth 
of  the  individual  performer's  skill  ?  How  few  appre- 
ciate the  infinite  pains,  the  acute  observation,  the 
steady  patience  and  loyal  service,  that  have  formed  the 
groundwork  of  that  success  ?  One  of  the  chief  values 
in  the  memoirs  of  actors  is  the  lesson  quietly  enforced 
by  them  that  genuine  and  enduring  quality  in  histri- 
onic art  is  based,  on  small  beginnings,  and  matures  by 
unobtrusive  effort  long  applied.  The  best  actor  in  any 
kind  does  not  burst  upon  our  vision  as  a  star  just 
created,  complete.  He  has  been  there  a  long  time, 
shining  modestly  in  the  theatrical  firmament,  only  we 
did  not  at  first  perceive  him.  Perhaps  the  fault  was 
with  our  eyes  ;  or  perhaps  his  ray  was  slowly  gather- 
ing power,  and  had  not  yet  reached  us. 

In  the  "Autobiography  of  Joseph  Jefferson,"  which  is 
itself  an  illustration  of  a  great  actor's  gradual  growth, 
occurs  a  short  account  of  a  pathetic,  yet  beautiful, 
episode  now  famous  in  the  story  of  American  theatri- 

266 


E.   M     HOLLAND 


EDMUND    MILTON    HOLLAND.  267 

cal  experience  ;  that  is,  the  funeral  of  George  Holland. 
"  Upon  the  announcement  of  the  death  of  George 
Holland,"  writes  Mr.  Jefferson,  "  I  called  at  the  house 
of  his  family  and  found  them  in  great  grief.  The  sis- 
ter of  Mr.  Holland  informed  me  that  they  desired  the 
funeral  to  take  place  from  the  church.  ...  I  at  once 
started  in  quest  of  the  minister,  taking  one  of  the 
sons  of  Mr.  Holland  with  me.  .  .  .  Something  gave 
me  the  impression  that  I  had  best  mention  that  Mr. 
Holland  was  an  actor.  I  did  so  in  a  few  words,  and 
concluded  by  presuming  that  probably  this  fact  would 
make  no  difference.  I  saw,  however,  by  the  restrained 
manner  of  the  minister  that  it  would  make,  at  least  to 
him,  a  great  deal  of  difference.  After  some  hesitation, 
he  said  that,  if  Mr.  Holland  had  been  an  actor,  he 
would  be  compelled  to  decline  holding  the  service  at 
the  church.  While  his  refusal  would  have  shocked 
under  ordinary  circumstances,  the  fact  that  it  was 
made  in  the  presence  of  the  dead  man's  son  was  more 
painful  than  I  can  describe,  I  turned  to  look  at  the 
youth,  and  saw  that  his  eyes  were  filled  with  tears. 
He  stood  as  one  dazed  with  a  blow  just  realized." 

Mr.  Jefferson  then  asked  the  minister  whether  he 
could  suggest  some  church  where  the  ceremony  might 
be  performed.  "  He  replied  that  '  there  was  a  little 
church  around  the  corner  '  where  I  might  get  it  done. 
•Then,  if  that  be  so,  God  bless  the  little  church 
around  the  corner,'  said  I.  The  minister  had  unwit- 
tingly performed  an  important  christening;  and  his 
baptismal  name,  '  The  Little  Church  around  the  Cor- 
ner,' clings  to  it  to  this  day." 

It  is  the  second  son  of  this  Get)rge  Holland  who  is 
the  subject  of  the  present  sketch.     His  name  —  pleas- 


268         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

antly  combining  a  suggestion  of  Edmund  Spenser  and 
the  great  Puritan  poet  of  England  —  is  Edmund  Milton 
Holland.  He  was  born  in  the  city  of  New  York,  Sept. 
7,  1848.  Educated  in  the  public  schools  there,  he 
passed,  when  only  fifteen  years  old,  from  the  formal 
training  of  the  pupils'  bench  in  recitation-rooms  to  that 
other  school  of  the  coulisses,  that  world  "  behind  the 
scenes,"  which  is  the  college  most  needful  to  the  bright 
lad  who  means  to  be  an  actor.  It  is,  however,  a  college 
where  the  difference  between  the  regular  curriculum 
and  "  elective  "  studies  is  not  very  precisely  defined. 
Whether  young  Mr.  Holland  took  an  "elective"  or 
not,  I  am  unable  to  say.  Certain  it  is  that  he  began 
his  stage  career  at  fifteen,  as  "  call-boy  "  in  Mrs.  John 
Wood's  Olympic  Theatre,  on  Broadway,  just  above 
Bleecker  Street,  in  1863.  This  was  formerly  Laura 
Keene's  Theatre  (where,  in  the  season  of  1858- 1859, 
the  present  writer  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing,  when 
a  boy,  "  Our  American  Cousin,"  played  by  Jefferson  as 
Asa  Trenchard  and  Sothern  as  Lord  Dundreary,  during 
the  first  production  of  that  play).  But,  although  he 
made  his  practical  beginning  here,  he  had  been  familiar 
with  the  stage  from  his  earliest  years  ;  and,  when  only 
a  child,  he  had  made  his  appearance  behind  the  foot- 
lights as  one  of  the  boys  in  "  A  Day  After  the  Fair," 
a  farce  in  which  his  father  had  won  deserved  renown. 

Young  Holland  remained  at  Mrs.  John  Wood's 
Theatre  for  three  years,  in  the  capacity  of  call-boy. 
In  those  days  the  position  was  very  arduous.  More 
work  fell  to  the  share  of  the  call-boy  than  to  that  of 
any  one  else  in  the  theatre.  He  had  to  labor  early  and 
late.  But  this  experience  of  Mr.  Holland,  no  doubt, 
gave  him  the  opportunity  to  learn  in  detail  the  require- 


EDMUND    MILTON    HOLLAND.  269 

ments  of  the  stage  and  the  mechanical  duties  of  the 
actors.  His  fourth  season  of  the  theatre  found  him  on 
duty  in  Barnum's  Museum,  which  then  (1866)  displayed 
itself  in  the  curious  old  Chinese  Building,  at  the  corner 
of  Broadway  and  Spring  Street.  To  many  people  in 
our  day  it  is  probably  unknown  that  Barnum's  "great- 
est show  on  earth  "  was  then  not  a  peripatetic,  but  a 
fixed,  exhibition.  His  museum,  menagerie,  waxwork, 
and  curiosity  collection  had  a  well-organized  theatrical 
attachment,  wherein  plays  were  presented  on  a  thor- 
oughly appointed  stage,  with  due  scenic  effect  and 
capable  companies.  From  this  place,  however,  Hol- 
land soon  took  a  step  forward  by  joining  Joseph  Jef- 
ferson, with  whose  company  he  played  in  the  original 
production  of  the  Boucicault  version  of  "  Rip  Van 
Winkle."  In  1867  he  made  another  and  a  greater 
stride  ahead,  when  he  became  a  regular  member  of  the 
famous  stock  company  at  the  old  Wallack's  Theatre,  at 
the  corner  of  Broadway  and  Thirteenth  Street. 

In  this  wonderful  old  company  —  the  memory  of 
which  is  still  luminous  in  the  minds  of  all  theatre-jroinc: 
New  Yorkers  who  can  look  back  to  the  scenic  joys  of  a 
quarter  of  a  century  ago  —  Mr.  Holland  held  his  place, 
and  earned  a  constantly  increasing  reputation,  for  thir- 
teen years.  More  than  a  few  of  my  readers  will  re- 
call from  their  own  observation,  and  others  are  aware 
through  printed  records,  that  Edmund  Holland's  father, 
George  Holland,  was  an  eminent  member  of  the  Wal- 
lack  forces,  from  the  opening  of  the  theatre  in  1S52  up 
to  1868. 

It  was  a  happy  coincidence  that  thus  enabled  the 
son,  near  the  close  of  the  senior  Holland's  term  there, 
to  attach  himself  to  his  father's  traditions,  in  the  very 


270        FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF    TO-DAY. 

spot  where  the  name  of  Holland  had  gained  so  much 
lustre.  To  the  Wallack  connection,  and  the  training 
he  received  in  that  excellent  school,  Mr.  E.  M.  Holland 
himself  attributes  much  of  his  own  success.  His  father 
had  been  his  first  teacher  in  the  elements  of  the  art  of 
acting,  and  had  also  instructed  him  in  the  use  of  the 
foils.  But  the  precepts,  the  technical  advice  and  disci- 
pline, received  from  Lester  Wallack,  together  with  the 
practical  knowledge  gained  while  under  his  stage  direc- 
tion, were  the  main  factors  in  enabling  young  Holland 
to  develop  his  talents,  and  earn  a  congenial  position  in 
his  profession. 

He  entered  upon  that  profession  now,  formally,  but 
with  due  modesty,  not  even  venturing  to  let  his  true 
name  appear  upon  the  bills.  For  some  time  after  his 
entrance  into  theatrical  life,  he  was  known  to  the  pub- 
lic simply  as  Mr.  E.  Milton  ;  and  it  was  not  until  he 
had  satisfactorily  proved  his  own  artistic  worth  that 
he  was  allowed  openly  to  avow  himself  a  Holland. 

Gradually  it  became  plain  to  all  observers  that  he 
was  thoroughly  competent  to  sustain  the  reputation 
belonging  to  that  distinguished  name.  His  first  work 
at  Wallack's  was  done  with  E.  L.  Davenport  in  "A 
New  Way  to  Pay  Old  Debts."  Afterwards  he  played 
a  large  number  of  parts  there;  and  steadily  progressing 
in  favor,  both  with  Mr.  Wallack  and  with  the  public,  he 
came  at  last,  though  by  slow  degrees,  to  be  intrusted 
with  the  most  important  comedy  and  character  business 
in  the  varied  repertory  of  that  day  and  theatre.  He 
showed,  among  other  things,  a  particular  faculty  for 
impersonating  Plowman  ;  and,  when  very  little  over 
thirty  years  old,  achieved  a  great  success  as  Silky  in 
"The  Road  to  Ruin."     Further  distinction  was  won  by 


EDMUND    MILTON    HOLLAND.  27 1 

him  in  the  revivals  of  Robertson's  comedies,  when  he 
played  successfully  Beau  Farintosh  in  "School,"  and 
Samuel  Gerridge  in  "  Caste."  During  the  Wallack 
period,  as  may  well  be  understood,  he  was  associated 
with  many  celebrated  men  and  women  of  the  stage  ; 
among  the  number  being  John  Gilbert,  John  Brougham, 
E.  L.  Davenport,  J.  W.  Wallack,  Charles  Fisher,  E.  A. 
Sothern,  Charles  Mathews,  J.  H.  Stoddart,  Charles 
Coghlan,  Charles  Wyndham,  Dion  Boucicault,  Madame 
Ponisi,  Miss  Ada  Dyas,  John  Burk,  Mrs.  Sefton,  Mrs. 
Hoey.  These  associations  had  a  distinct  educational 
value  in  respect  of  art,  which  tended  always  in  the  right 
direction. 

After  leaving  Wallack's,  in  1880,  Mr.  Holland  played 
a  short  engagement  under  A.  M.  Palmer,  then  of  the 
Union  Square  Theatre,  as  Riffidini  in  "  French  Flats." 
On  the  3d  of  April,  the  same  year,  he  sailed  for  ICngland 
with  McKee  Rankin,  and  opened  with  him,  April  26, 
at  Sadler's  Wells  Theatre,  in  "  The  Danite.s,"  taking 
the  part  of  The  Judge  with  pronounced  success,  and 
with  a  '*  make-up  "  of  delightful  yet  wisely  subdued  gro- 
tesqueness.  In  this  character  he  made  the  tour  of  the 
provinces  which  followed,  appearing  in  all  the  chief 
cities  of  the  United  Kingdom,  and  finished  the  season 
with  Mr.  Rankin  on  their  return  to  America.  Mr. 
Holland  then  joined  Henry  E.  Abbey's  Company,  and 
created  the  role  of  Major  McTurtle  in  "  Mother-in- 
Law,"  which  was  produced  in  1881  at  the  Park  Theatre, 
corner  of  Broadway  and  Twenty-second  Street.  The 
next  play  given  there  was  "After  the  Opera,"  wherein 
Mr.  Holland  impersonated  The  Deacon  ;  a  performance 
which  led  to  his  securing  an  excellent  engagement  at 
the  Madison  Square  Theatre,  at  that  time  managed  by 


272         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

Daniel  H.  Frohman.  For  two  years  he  continued 
here  under  Mr.  Frohman's  management,  acting  all  the 
character  and  comedy  parts  in  the  repertory  ;  and  when 
Mr.  A,  M.  Palmer  took  control  of  the  Madison  Square, 
Mr.  Holland  went  on  with  him,  becoming  a  member 
of  the  brilliant,  strong,  and  celebrated  company  which 
made  "  Madison  Square  "  a  name  that  will  preserve  in 
our  stage-history  a  classic  place. 

Under  Mr.  Palmer's  management  he  appeared  first 
as  Lot  Bowman  in  "  Saints  and  Sinners."  Subse- 
quently he  made  a  great  hit  as  Captain  Redwood  in 
"Jim  the  Penman,"  acting  the  part  with  superb  calm, 
suppressed  force,  and  delicately  satirical  humor.  The 
other  impersonations  which  added  to  his  reputation  dur- 
ing this  period  were  Corporal  Pichot  in  "The  Martyr" 
(1887-1888),  Mr.  Gardiner  in  "Captain  Swift,"  Mr. 
Belair  in  "Partners"  (1888-1889),  the  intensely  dryly 
amusing,  solemn  solicitor,  Mr.  Berkley  Brue,  in  "Aunt 
Jack"  (1889-1890),  Uncle  Gregory  in  "A  Pair  of  Spec- 
tacles," and  Major  Mobcrly  in  "Alabama"  (1891  and 
1891-1892)  ;  this  last  being  a  creation  of  distinct  ori- 
ginality and  delicate  power.  To  these  I  ought  to  add 
his  Gawain,  in  my  stage  version  of  "  Elaine,"  a  small 
part,  which  Mr.  Holland  rendered  with  a  dainty  ele- 
gance and  lightness  worthy  of  remembrance.  Mr. 
Holland  passed  from  the  Madison  Square  to  Palmer's 
Theatre,  still  in  association  with  Mr.  Palmer's  stock 
company.  Then  he  engaged  in  a  starring  tour  with  his 
brother,  and  won  still  more  favor  by  his  impersonation 
of  the  loyal  but  rascally  valet  in  "A  Social  Highway- 
man." 

It  is  now  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  since  Mr. 
Holland  began  methodically  his  career  upon  the  stage ; 


EDMUND    MILTON    HOLLAND.  273 

and  it  may  truthfully  be  said  that  in  all  that  time  his 
progress  has  been  steady,  without  a  single  failure  or  set- 
back ;  that  he  has  gained  continually  in  range,  power, 
self-control,  accuracy,  and  subtlety  in  his  effects.  He 
is  an  adroit  master  in  the  art  of  making  up.  A  fine 
student  of  character,  he  also  has  at  command  a  notice- 
able fund  of  richly  humorous  drollery.  If  past  perform- 
ances and  present  indications  are  any  guide,  we  may 
count  upon  Mr.  E.  M.  Holland  as  a  comedian  who  in 
the  years  to  come  will  continue  the  example,  and  with 
increasing  facility  take  the  place,  in  some  respects,  of 
such  great  character  actors  as  William  Warren  and 
John  Gilbert. 


GEORGIA  CAYVAN. 

By  Ralph  Edmunds. 


It  has  l^een  said  that  the  highest  triumph  of  the 
player  is  to  realize  the  true  aspirations  of  poetic  genius, 
and  to  give  adequate  expression  to  the  various  emotions 
of  the  soul.  An  actor  may  be  very  dignified  and  de- 
clamatory ;  but  unless  he  endeavors  to  lay  bare  the 
springs  of  the  character  he  represents,  his  work  is  of 
little  value.  Unfortunately  the  stage  is  governed  by 
traditions  compared  with  which  the  laws  of  the  Medes 
and  Persians  were  very  clastic ;  and  Nym  Crinkle 
never  made  a  truer  remark  than  when  he  observed  that 
the  average  actor,  as  a  rule,  was  "  generally  swathed, 
mummy-like,  in  the  thousand-year-old  wrapper  of  his 
business." 

But  even  in  these  degenerate  days,  when  we  weigh 
art  in  balances  and  genius  in  scales,  it  is  possible  for 
originality,  naturalness,  and  intensity  to  conquer  old 
prejudices.  There  is  something  irresistible  about  a 
graceful,  honest,  simple,  passionate  personality.  It  is 
delightful  to  see  an  actor  lost  in  a  character,  to  see  a 
beautiful  woman  the  instrumentality  of  a  thought,  to 
see  her  a  living,  breathing  ideal.  This  enviable  di.s- 
tinction  has  been  attained  by  few  ;  but  it  is  most  grati- 

274 


GEORGIA  CAYVAN. 


GEORGIA    CAVVAN.  275 

fying  to  know  that  among  the  honored  ones,  the  name 
of  Georgia  Cay  van  is  unmistakably  enrolled. 

Even  in  the  early  days  of  her  career  it  was  proph- 
esied that  Miss  Cay  van  would  be  the  American  Madge 
Robertson,  and  it  must  be  admitted  that  there  is  still 
a  great  similarity  in  the  styles  of  both  actresses.  But 
this  resemblance,  however,  exists  only  in  outline,  and 
not  in  detail ;  for  although  Miss  Cayvan  possesses  the 
best  attributes  of  Mrs.  Kendal,  yet  she  has  often  at- 
tained heights  which  are  far  beyond  the  reach  of  her 
English  prototype.  The  most  striking  feature  of 
Mrs.  Kendal's  acting  has  always  been  the  careful  de- 
liberateness  with  which  she  leads  up  to  every  point, 
and  the  thoroughness  with  which  she  extracts  from 
every  situation  every  possible  bit  of  effect.  She  seems 
to  suggest  nothing,  but  to  do  everything.  It  is  quite 
evident  that  she  has  schooled  herself  during  her  long 
career  to  leave  nothing  to  the  imagination  of  the  spec- 
tator. On  the  other  hand,  the  groundwork  of  Miss 
Cayvan's  art — like  that  of  all  the  other  arts — seems 
to  be  suggcstiveness  ;  and  the  secret  of  the  success  of 
this  clement  upon  which  she  depends,  in  a  measure, 
is  not  difficult  to  fathom.  The  artists  who  appeal 
directly  to  the  grosser  senses  of  an  audience,  and  do 
not  leave  anything  to  be  considered  in  the  outer  realms 
of  imagination,  must  of  necessity  achieve  less  —  the 
senses  which  arc  susceptible  of  immediate  impression 
being  of  definite  limits.  Miss  Cayvan  is  herself  a  most 
imaginative  actress,  and  the  reason  that  her  success  is 
in  proportion  to  the  intelligence  of  her  audience  is  sim- 
ply because  the  poetry  of  her  fancy  is  most  fully  apjire- 
ciatcd  by  those  who  are  endowed  most  liberally  with  a 
similar  gift. 


276        FAMOUS   AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

It  must  not  be  imagined  that  there  is  any  hesitation 
or  vagueness  about  the  acting  of  Miss  Cayvan.  From 
her  first  entrance  upon  the  scene  she  is  completely 
mistress  of  the  situation,  and  carries  with  her,  not  only 
the  unswerving  sympathies,  but  also  the  convictions,  of 
her  audience.  In  fact,  she  stamps  the  shape  and  strikes 
the  key-note  of  the  character  at  once  ;  and  all  the  sub- 
sequent development  of  the  part  is  but  the  logical 
outcome  of  the  opening  scene.  Few  actresses  give  an 
audience  so  much  to  think  about  as  does  Miss  Cayvan  ; 
and  at  the  same  time  few  artists  approach  her  in  the 
power  of  expressing  the  individuality  of  a  character, — 
the  trifling  details  which  cause  a  character  to  be  recog- 
nized. 

Perhaps  a  slight  review  of  the  principal  incidents 
of  Georgia  Cayvan's  professional  life  is  not  amiss  in  a 
sketch  of  this  kind,  and  it  will  serve  to  indicate  the 
position  occupied  by  that  clever  young  woman  on  the 
American  stage.  It  was  at  a  small  church  festival 
held  in  her  native  town  of  Bath,  Me.,  that  Miss 
Cayvan  first  displayed  a  penchant  for  theatricals.  The 
entertainment  consisted  of  a  number  of  tableaux  ;  and 
as  the  hall  in  which  it  was  given  could  not  boast  of 
such  a  luxury  as  a  curtain,  the  committee  in  charge 
were  much  puzzled  as  to  the  manner  of  concluding  the 
performance.  It  was  finally  agreed  that  the  smallest 
child  in  the  village  should  be  sent  on  the  stage,  attired 
in  a  long  nightgown,  and  with  a  candle  in  her  hand, 
to  say  "goodnight  "  to  the  audience,  thus  giving  them 
their  cue  for  retiring.  Miss  Cayvan,  then  only  three 
years  of  age,  was  chosen  to  deliver  this  brief  and  un- 
conventional epilogue.  It  is  a  matter  of  record  that 
she   acquitted   herself  most  creditably,  and  spoke  her 


GEORGIA    CAYVAN.  277 

line  with  a  due  appreciation  of  its  import ;  but  this  done, 
she  positively  refused  to  retire  from  the  centre  of  the 
stage,  and  had  to  be  removed  bodily.  This  fact  may 
be  accepted  either  as  an  indication  of  Miss  Cayvan's 
early  love  for  her  present  profession,  or  a  keen  appre- 
ciation of  the  position  on  the  stage  usually  occupied 
by  the  leading  personage.  However,  it  is  a  pleasure 
to  learn  that  she  did  not  follow  her  successful  dchiit 
by  joining  the  ranks  of  what  are  known  as  "juvenile 
wonders."  For  it  is  not  the  least  cogent  of  the  argu- 
ment against  the  employment  of  children  on  the  stage 
that  the  promise  held  forth  by  their  performances  is 
but  seldom  realized.  They  are  very  much  like  a  tree 
in  a  forcing-house, — the  blossom  or  fruit  is  prized 
because  it  comes  before  its  time,  but  the  principle  of 
fruitification  is  soon  destroyed.  That  many  actors 
have  risen  superior  to  the  ill  effects  of,  strained  pre- 
cocity is  beyond  dispute,  but  the  training  they  are 
necessarily  subjected  to  in  a  theatre  imparts  to  their 
style  a  staginess  which  they  afterwards  find  it  very 
difficult  to  discard. 

Soon  after  Miss  Cayvan's  memorable  ddbut  in  Bath, 
her  family  removed  to  Boston;  and  it  was  while  attend- 
ing school  in  that  centre  of  culture  that  she  developed 
unusual  powers  as  a  reader.  Nowadays  she  laughingly 
declares  that  it  was  a  strong  predilection  for  unlimited 
quantities  of  soup  and  celery  that  i)r()mi)tetl  her  to  earn 
her  own  living  ;  but,  however  that  may  be,  it  is  certain 
Ihat  Miss  Cayvan's  services  were  eagerly  sought  for 
on  all  sides  soon  after  her  first  apjiearance  on  the 
platform.  In  the  beginning,  her  repertory  consisted 
jirincipally  of  humorous  selections  and  "bird  pieces,"  in 
which  she  gave  imitations  of  various  members  of  the 


278         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAV. 

feathered  tribe.  Emboldened  bv  her  success,  she  added 
scenes  from  "  Henry  V."  and  "  Henry  VHI.  ;"  and  her 
fame  spread  even  to  New  York,  where  she  was  invited 
to  come  on  one  occasion,  and  give  her  readings  before 
the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  This  was  a  great  event  in  the  life  of 
Miss  Cayvan ;  and  the  attendant  preparations  and  ex- 
citement of  her  first  visit  to  Gotham,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  congratulations  of  her  schoolmates,  —  for  she 
was  then  still  a  pupil  of  the  Boston  High  School,  — are 
yet  fresh  in  her  memory. 

On  her  return  to  Boston,  Miss  Cayvan  entered  the 
School  of  Oratory  directed  by  Professor  Lewis  B. 
Monroe,  where  she  laid  a  substantial  foundation  for 
her  future  work  as  an  actress.  Professor  Monroe  was 
much  impressed  by  the  talent  of  his  new  scholar,  and 
did  everything  in  his  power  to  further  her  advance- 
ment. He  readily  foresaw  that  her  proper  sphere  was 
the  drama,  and  not  the  platform,  while  he  repeatedly 
asserted  that  when  the  proper  time  came  she  would 
easily  assume  a  leading  place  in  the  theatrical  profes- 
sion. Miss  Cayvan  did  not  share  Professor  Monroe's 
opinion  ;  but  while  spending  the  summer  at  his  home 
in  Dublin,  N.  H.,  something  happened  which  subse- 
quently caused  her  to  alter  her  decision  of  never  for- 
saking the  platform  for  the  stage.  She  had  the  good 
fortune  to  meet  that  erratic  genius  and  apostle  of  Del- 
sarte,  Steele  Mackaye,  who  was  then  getting  ready  to 
open  the  Madison  Square  Theatre,  and  who  was  also  on 
a  still  hunt  for  desirable  talent.  Mr.  Mackaye  imme- 
diately perceived  that  Miss  Cayvan  had  the  making  of 
a  succes.sful  actress,  and  entreated  her  to  begin  her 
career  on  the  stage  under  his  management.  "  If  you 
will    come    to  New    York   I  will   make  you  a  leading 


GEORGIA    CAYVAN.  279 

woman  in  a  year,"  he  often  said  to  her ;  but,  as  the 
young  reader  had  an  unusual  number  of  profitable  con- 
tracts on  hand,  she  begged  for  time  to  consider  his 
offer.  However,  Mr.  Mackaye  was  persistent  ;  and 
when  he  returned  to  New  York  he  kept  urging  her 
not  to  throw  away  such  a  splendid  opportunity. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  that  you  are  in  any  way  pre- 
vented from  taking  advantage  of  the  extraordinary 
opening  there  is  for  your  abilities  in  this  city,"  wrote 
Mr.  Mackaye,  on  one  occasion,  to  Miss  Cay  van.  "  Even 
now  I  cannot  refrain  from  hoping  that  you  may  be  able 
to  free  yourself  in  some  honorable  way  from  your 
present  engagements.  ...  I  hold  it  in  my  power  now 
to  afford  you  the  opportunity  to  grasp  within  one  year 
a  leading  position  in  this  profession.  You  may  never 
again  be  able  to  command  under  such  favorable,  and  I 
may  say  delightful,  conditions,  such  a  wonderful  chance 
of  advancement.  Under  the  circumstances,  is  it  not 
worth  your  while  to  make  an  effort  to  secure  this  open- 
ing ?  Can  you  not  buy  yourself  off  from  your  present 
contracts.'  We  stand  ready  to  assist  you  in  this. 
You  may  marvel  why  I  am  so  anxious  that  you  should 
do  this.  It  is  not  alone  for  your  own  sake,  as  you  may 
well  imagine  ;  but  it  is  also  because  we  are  convinced 
from  what  we  know  of  you  that,  if  you  are  identified 
with  the  Madison  Square  Theatre  from  its  inception, 
your  own  sterling  talents  will  ultimately  make  you  a 
very  valuable  member  of  our  company.  I  am  sure  that, 
under  my  thorough  system  of  stage  management,  you 
can  become  in  a  short  time  one  of  the  best  actresses 
this  country  has  ever  produced  ;  and  it  is  this  convic- 
tion that  induces  me  to  advise  you  to  set  yourself  free 
and  join  us  if  you  possibly  can." 


28o         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

The  faith  of  Mr.  Mackaye  in  Miss  Cayvan  must 
have  been  nothing  short  of  remarkable,  but  subsequent 
events  proved  that  his  judgment  was  not  at  fault. 
After  months  of  hesitation,  Miss  Cayvan  accepted  Mr. 
Mackaye's  terms,  and  joined  the  stock  company  of  the 
Madison  Square  Theatre.  But,  in  the  meantime,  she 
had  tried  her  wings  by  a  performance  of  Hebe  in  the 
original  production  of  "  Pinafore,"  given  by  the  Boston 
Ideals,  in  one  of  William  Gillette's  early  plays,  and  in 
a  benefit  to  a  Boston  actor.  Her  first  professional 
appearance  as  an  actress  was  made  at  the  Madison 
Square  Theatre  on  June  7,  1880,  when  she  appeared 
as  Dolly  Button  in  "  Hazel  Kirke."  She  was  promoted 
to  the  leading  role  a  few  months  later ;  and  when  "  The 
Professor  "  was  given  its  first  presentation,  the  part  of 
Daisy  Brown  was  intrusted  to  Miss  Cayvan. 

While  playing  an  arduous  season  on  the  road  in 
"  Hazel  Kirke  "  during  the  ensuing  year,  she  received 
an  invitation  to  associate  herself  with  George  Riddle  in 
a  performance  of  the  "  Qidipus  Tyrannus  "  of  Sopho- 
cles. Miss  Cayvan  easily  saw  that  her  connection  with 
such  an  enterprise  would  be  the  means  of  advancing 
herself  professionally,  and,  with  the  courage  of  inexpe- 
rience, coolly  gave  up  a  season's  engagement  for  the 
pleasure  of  playing  the  role  of  Jocasta  during  two 
weeks.  The  outcome,  however,  exceeded  her  most 
sanguine  expectations.  The  people  who  flocked  to  see 
the  Greek  tragedy  at  the  Globe  Theatre  in  Boston, 
and  at  Booth's  Theatre  in  New  York,  included  many 
who  seldom  visited  the  play-house  under  ordinary  cir- 
cumstances ;  and  Miss  Cayvan's  majestic  and  impressive 
interpretation  of  CEdipus'  Queen,  not  only  won  for  her 
new  friends,  who  have  since  followed  her  career  with 


GEORGIA    CAYVA^.  28 1 

pride,  but  also  placed  a  premium  on  her  services,  which 
would  otherwise  have  required  years  of  successful  act- 
ing. For  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  tasted  the 
sweets  of  a  great  triumph,  while  she  also  understood 
the  amount  of  inspiration  which  lies  in  the  atmosphere 
of  a  noble  tragedy. 

Old  John  Gilbert  was  so  carried  away  by  her  per- 
formance that  he  rushed  back  on  the  stage,  asking, 
"  Where  is  that  Miss  Cayvan  .-*  "  On  being  introduced 
to  the  young  actress,  he  immediately  wanted  to  know 
where  she  hailed  from,  and  with  whom  she  had  acted 
before.  When  he  was  informed  that  she  had  been 
playing  for  over  a  year  at  the  Madison  Square  Theatre, 
he  was  somewhat  taken  aback,  but  calmly  asserted, 
with  his  usual  gruffness,  that  he  had  never  heard  of 
her  previously.  However,  Mr.  Gilbert  made  it  his  busi- 
ness afterwards  to  keep  track  of  her  whereabouts  ;  and 
on  one  occasion,  while  showing  her  a  picture  of  Char- 
lotte Cushman,  he  predicted  that  the  mantle  of  the 
great  American  tragedienne  would  some  day  fall  on 
Miss  Cay  van's  dimj)led  shoulders. 

The  appearance  of  Miss  Cayvan  in  "(Kdipus  Tyran- 
nus  "  marked  a  pleasant  epoch  in  her  life,  and  since 
then  her  rise  has  been  almost  phenomenal.  Mven  now 
she  likes  to  look  back  to  that  performance,  which  she 
pronounces  as  one  of  her  happiest  recollections.  Per- 
haps, like  the  I-Vench  poet,  slie  realizes  that  — 

"  Un  souvenir  hciircux  est,  peiit-Ctrc,  sur  tcrre 
I'liis  vr.ii  que  Ic  lH>nheur." 

When  she  doffed  her  Greek  robes,  she  went  back  to 
the  rustic  comedy  of  "  Hazel  Kirke,"  for  the  fort- 
night's  indulgence    had   been   an    expensive   lu.xury   in 


282         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO— DAY. 

many  ways.  But  she  soon  found  a  happy  medium  in 
the  melodramas  of  Bartley  Campbell,  with  some  of 
which  Miss  Cay  van's  name  will  always  be  associated. 
The  success  of  "The  White  Slave"  at  the  Fourteenth 
Street  Theatre,  New  York,  was  largely  due  to  her 
impassioned  yet  delicate  impersonation  of  Lisa,  which 
she  followed  in  rapid  succession  with  such  characteriza- 
tions as  Sara  in  "  Siberia,"  Little  Hetty  in  "  Old  Ship- 
mates," and  Lura  in  "Romany  Rye."  Miss  Cayvan's 
powers  were  singularly  well  suited  to  this  style  of  act- 
ing, and  she  afterward  showed  that  she  had  not  for- 
gotten her  early  training  when  she  appeared  in  "Squire 
Kate."  Her  vigorous  and  at  the  same  time  natural 
and  artistic  portrayal  of  the  woman  of  the  moors  raised 
her  audience  to  such  a  pitch  of  enthusiasm,  that  on 
one  occasion  she  won  as  many  as  five  recalls.  This  is 
startling  when  you  consider  that  it  happened  in  the 
Lyceum  Theatre,  where  it  is  deemed  ill-bred  to  applaud 
or  display  any  emotion.  There  is  only,  one  other  in- 
stance on  record  in  the  history  of  the  house.  It  hap- 
pened during  the  run  of  "  Lord  Chumley,"  and  it  so 
surprised  Mr.  Sothern  that  he  actually  fainted. 

After  the  termination  of  her  engagement  at  the 
Fourteenth  Street  Theatre,  Miss  Cayvan  spent  four 
months  in  San  Francisco,  occupying  the  position  of 
leading  woman  in  Haverly's  Company  at  the  Cali- 
fornia Theatre.  Upon  her  return  to  New  York,  A. 
M.  Palmer  engaged  her  to  replace  Sara  Jewett  at  the 
Union  Square  Theatre,  where  she  played  the  parts  of 
Marcelle  in  "  A  Parisian  Romance,"  and  Jane  Learoyd 
in  "The  Long  Strike."  Her  stay  at  that  theatre  was 
made  anything  but  agreeable  by  internal  dissensions  ; 
and  the  following  season  she  was  glad  to  follow  Mr. 


GEORGIA    CAYVAN.  283 

Palmer  to  the  Madison  Square  Theatre,  appearing  in 
that  house  in  "  Alpine  Roses,"  "  Young  Mrs.  Win- 
throp,"  and  "  May  Blossom."  When  the  company 
went  touring,  "  May  Blossom  "  was  supplemented  by 
"  Divorce,"  "  Impulse,"  and  "  La  Belle  Russe."  It 
was  in  St.  Louis  that  Miss  Cay  van  played  a  starring 
engagement  in  the  latter  play  much  against  her  will, 
but  with  great  results.  When  she  remonstrated  with 
Mr.  Belasco  for  asking  her  to  play  a  role  which  had 
tasked  the  powers  of  an  actress  like  Rose  Coghlan,  he 
quietly  replied  that  she  could  do  full  justice  to  it,  add- 
ing that  after  her  first  performance  she  would  rather 
act  in  "  La  Belle  Russe"  than  eat.  Miss  Cay  van  held 
her  audiences  from  first  to  last,  and  now  she  is  willing 
to  acknowledge  the  correctness  of  Mr.  Belasco's  peculiar 
assertion.  The  following  season  found  her  in  New 
York  for  a  short  time,  and  then  she  cast  her  fortunes 
with  Dion  Boucicault  on  the  road.  The  subsequent 
formation  of  the  Lyceum  Theatre,  and  her  engagement 
by  Daniel  Frohman,  as  well  as  the  success  she  has 
won  in  such  plays  as  "  The  Wife,"  "  Sweet  Lavender," 
"The  Marquise,"  "The  Charity  Ball,"  "Nerves,"  "The 
Idler,"  "  Old  Heads  and  Young  Hearts,"  "  Lady  Boun- 
tiful," "Squire  Kate,"  "The  Gray  Mare,"  "Americans 
Abroad,"  "  The  Amazons,"  "  Our  Country  Cousins," 
and  "  A  Woman's  Silence,"  are  matters  of  too  recent 
occurrence  to  require  extended  comment. 

By  dint  of  hard  study,  intelligent  comprehension,  a 
genuine  love  for  her  art,  and  a  determination  to  ele- 
vate it  t(j  its  proper  place,  as  a  means  not  only  of  recre- 
ation but  of  artistic  enjoyment  and  aesthetic  education, 
Miss  Cay  vail  has  attained  an  unviable  place  in  her  pro- 
fession.    In  fact,  it  can  be  safely  said  of  her,  that  she 


284         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

is  a  great  dramatic  artist  in  an  age  when  greatness  in 
any  branch  of  art  is  extremely  rare.  Her  powers  are 
not  limited  to  the  portrayal  of  love-lorn  and  tearful 
heroines,  with  which  she  has  largely  been  identified  of 
late  years  ;  for  with  her  acting  is  not  only  the  mimetic 
performance  of  a  model,  but  the  absorption  and  repro- 
duction of  nature.  With  Miss  Cay  van  an  idea  becomes 
a  sentiment,  and  the  sentiment  soon  kindles  into  a 
passion.  No  rational  person  who  has  seen  her  Lady 
Teazle  or  her  Jocasta  —  the  latter  a  performance  of 
ineffable  beauty,  as  exquisite  as  it  was  powerful  —  can 
honestly  doubt  her  ability  to  give  expression  to  exalted 
ideals.  However,  she  thoroughly  realizes  the  fact  that 
the  truly  artistic  part  of  her  career  will  only  begin 
when  Time  comj^cls  her  to  discard  her  present  super- 
ficial characterization  for  the  more  legitimate  side  of 
the  drama. 

The  boundless  language  of  attitudes  has  in  every 
one  a  fresh  interpreter,  and  acting  is  so  personal  and 
physical  a  matter  that  mannerism  seems  almost  inevi- 
table to  it  ;  but  it  must  be  conceded  that  Miss  Cayv^an 
is  singularly  free  from  those  little  tricks  of  expression 
and  gesture  which  are  usually  the  part  and  parcel  of 
every  successful  player.  The  actor  is  generally  in- 
volved in  the  character  he  sustains,  and  he  is  likely  to 
invest  it  with  his  own  peculiarities  of  aspect  and  con- 
duct. Now  and  then  an  artist  may  succeed  for  a  time 
in  laying  aside,  as  it  were,  his  own  individuality,  and 
in  so  changing  himself  as  to  escape  identification.  It 
was  said  of  the  elder  Mathews  that  he  possessed  "  the 
art  of  extracting  his  personal  nature  from  his  assump- 
tions." Mimetic  power  of  this  kind  is,  of  course,  of 
very  rare  occurrence,  but  it  has  often  been  displayed 


GEORGIA    CAY  VAN.  285 

by  Miss  Cay  van.  She  is  well  aware  that  there  is  no 
mechanism,  no  matter  how  perfect,  that  can  take  the 
place  of  graceful,  unconscious  spontaneity  ;  and  with 
her  the  gesture  is  always  the  outward  expression  of 
inward  feeling.  But  no  matter  in  what  play  Miss 
Cayvan  appears,  the  light  of  her  glorious  talent  glows 
through  it  all ;  and  every  pose  and  change  of  feature 
seems  to  be  the  immediate  reproduction  of  the  mo- 
ment's thought  and  feeling.  She  projects  herself  into 
the  character  she  interprets,  and  the  semblances  are 
lost  in  the  one  individuality.  In  fact,  there  is  always 
the  intellectual  assimilation  and  the  emotional  merging. 
It  is  the  impulse  of  her  whole  nature,  the  force  of  her 
whole  soul,  and  not  the  straining  at  portrayal  or  the 
production  of  effect,  which  elevates  her  acting  from 
imitation  to  the  representation  of  life  and  its  passions. 
Like  Bernhardt,  Miss  Cayvan  can  well  say  of  her  be- 
loved art  :  "  I  hold  the  mirror  in  which  all  things  arc 
reflected,  but  in  which  no  truth  abides.  I  help  you 
endure  what  is  wearisome  in  life,  so  that  my  task  is 
not  an  unworthy  one.  To  teach  the  truth  of  truths, 
we  have  ministers  ;  to  console  us  for  death,  we  have 
God." 


EDWARD    H.   SOTHERN. 

By  Edward  M.  Alfriend. 


The  elder  Sothern  was  playing  in  New  Orleans 
when  his  son  Edward  was  born ;  and  the  announcement, 
or  first  record,  of  the  birth  is  entirely  consistent  with 
the  sense  of  humor  that  characterized  Mr.  Sothern's 
father.  Sothern  the  elder  was  at  that  period  of  his 
life  far  from  being  rich,  and  he  kept  a  daily  memo- 
randum of  his  expenses  in  a  small  account-book.  In 
this  memorandum  of  each  day's  expenditures,  amid 
amounts  paid  to  grocer,  butcher,  washerwoman,  etc., 
is  to  be  found  the  entry,  "  boy  born,"  and  a  statement 
of  the  cost  of  his  making  his  first  appearance  at  or 
on  any  stage. 

So  in  New  Orleans,  La.,  on  Dec.  6,  1859,  Edward 
H.  Sothern  first  saw  the  light,  and  began  a  life  which 
has  added  so  much  of  honor  to  the  American  stage. 
His  early  intellectual  manifestations  were  such  that 
his  parents  thought  that  he  would  be  a  great  painter, 
and  with  a  view  to  the  development  of  this  talent 
placed  him  in  the  art  school  of  the  Royal  Academy 
of  London  ;  but  young  Sothern  utterly  failed  to  dis- 
close as  a  painter  the  talents  anticipated  by  his  par- 
ents.   While  his  parents  were  cherishing  the  aspiration 

286 


E.  H.  SOTHERN  IN  "THE  PRISONER  OF  ZENDA. 


EDWARD   H.  SOTHERN. 


287 


of  his  development  as  a  painter,  the  son  was  secretly 
fostering  his  ambition  to  be  an  actor. 

His  father,  the  elder  Sothern,  was  then  at  the  ze- 
nith of  his  reputation  as  an  actor ;  and  young  Edward 
urged  him  to  let  him  become  a  member  of  his  com- 
pany. Distrusting  his  son's  capacity  for  the  stage, 
he  reluctantly  consented  ;  and  young  Sothern  accom- 
panied his  father  from  England  to  America,  and  made 
his  first  appearance  on  the  stage  at  Abbey's  old  Park 
Theatre,  at  the  age  of  nineteen. 

At  this,  his  first  performance,  he  had  only  one  line 
to  say  ;  and  when  his  cue  came  he  could  not  speak 
a  word.  In  describing  this  experience,  Mr.  Sothern 
states,  "  My  father  was  on  the  stage  when  I  made 
my  entrance  on  that,  to  me,  memorable  occasion,  and 
I  walked  toward  him.  I  didn't  say  my  sentence,  I 
couldn't  utter  a  word  ;  and  I  shall  never  forget  my 
sensations  when  I  heard  my  father  exclaim,  in  an  un- 
dertone, '  Why  don't  you  say  something  ;  can't  you 
speak  ? '  It  had  never  occurred  to  me  before  that 
I)eople  could  talk  to  each  other  on  tiie  stage,  and  not 
be  overheard.  I  supposed,  of  course,  that  the  entire 
audience  was  aware  of  what  my  father  said  to  me.  My 
chagrin  was  intolerable,  and  I  got  off  the  stage  as 
quickly  as  I  could.  This  performance  confirmed  my 
father's  opinion  that  I  would  never  make  an  actor. 
Still  I  appeared  with  him  the  next  night,  and  after 
much  drilling  succeeded  in  getting  off  my  sentence." 

Young  Sothern  played  with  his  father  in  this  coun- 
try about  a  year,  and  then  accompanied  him  back  to 
England. 

A  year  later  he  joined  John  McCullough's  com- 
pany, and  for  a  year  wandered  over  America,  playing 


288  FAMOUS  AMERICAN  ACl'ORS  OF  TO-DAY. 

"  Romans  and  ruffians."  Sothern  was  very  proud  of 
this  engagement,  for  it  was  the  first  one  in  which  he 
had  a  written  contract.  It  was  signed  by  McCullough, 
and  it  gave  the  young  actor  a  salary  of  twenty  dollars 
per  week. 

After  a  time  Sothern  was  without  an  engagement, 
and  for  a  long  period  he  could  not  get  work.  He  was 
quite  poor ;  but  being  very  proud,  and  a  gentleman  by 
instinct,  he  deported  himself  with  dignity,  manliness, 
and  self-respect.  Finally  he  obtained  work,  and  played 
at  different  localities  in  the  country,  at  one  time  under 
the  management  of  Charles  Frohman,  and  another 
under  John  P.  Smith. 

His  career  was  seemingly  without  promise,  and  he 
was  well-nigh  surrendering  to  despair,  when  he  met 
Mr.  John  Rickerby,  Miss  Helen  Dauvray's  manager. 
Mr.  Rickerby  said  to  him,  "  Why,  Sothern,  you  are 
the  very  man  I  want.  Will  you  play  a  small  part  with 
Miss  Dauvray  in  *  Mona  '  at  the  Star  Theatre  ?  " 

Mr.  Sothern  did  not  accept  the  proffered  engage- 
ment, but  told  Mr.  Rickerby  he  would  think  the  mat- 
ter over,  and  inform  him  of  his  decision.  The  young 
player  wanted  time  for  reflection,  and  also  to  go  home 
and  consult  with  his  friend,  Mr.  Joseph  Haworth,  the 
well-known  actor. 

With  the  unctuous  humor  that  characterizes  Mr. 
Sothern,  he  relates,  "In  spite  of  my  varied  experiences 
and  misfortunes,  now  that  I  was  back  in  New  York, 
and  particularly  since  I  really  had  the  offer  of  an  en- 
gagement, that  I  could  accept  or  refuse  as  I  chose,  I 
felt  my  pride  mounting ;  and  I  actually  said  to  Joe 
Haworth  in  a  very  self-satisfied  manner,  that  I  did  not 
think  that  I  ought  to  lower  myself  by  taking  such  a 


EDWARD   H.  SOTHERN.  289 

small  part  in  New  York,  and  that  I  had  perhaps  better 
consider  the  matter  a  little  more  seriously  than  I  would 
consider  accepting  a  leading  part.  Joe  turned  to  me, 
and  in  a  half-contemptuous  manner  asked,  '  IV/io  are 
yoH,  anyway  / '  " 

Mr.  Haworth's  sarcasm  brought  young  Sothern  to 
an  appreciation  of  his  position  as  it  actually  existed, 
and  was  decisive  of  his  action.  So  he  accepted  the 
engagement  in  Miss  Dauvray's  company,  appeared  in 
"  Mona,"  and  when  it  was  withdrawn,  appeared  with 
that  lady  in  "One  of  our  Girls,"  at  the  Lyceum  Theatre, 
in  1885,  making  his  first  hit. 

When  Mr.  Daniel  Frohman  assumed  charge  of  the 
Lyceum  Theatre,  he  was  so  impressed  with  Sothern's 
talents  and  promise  that  he  opened  a  negotiation  with 
him  ;  and  the  result  was  his  appearance  at  that  theatre 
in  "The  Highest  Bidder,"  May  3,  1887.  As  Mr. 
Daniel  Frohman  describes  it  in  speaking  of  it,  "  It  was 
a  purely  tentative  production  ;  but  it  proved  to  be  an 
enormous  success,  and  Sothern  came  out  with  a  dis- 
tinct triumph."  Mr.  Frohman  sent  the  play  out  on 
the  road,  as  follows  (being  careful,  as  he  says,  "  not  to 
overweight  the  young  star"),  "'The  Highest  Bidder,' 
loifh  v..  H.  S(jthern  ;"  but  the  following  year  he  was 
amply  justified  in  saying  "  E.  H.  Sothern  in  '  The 
Highest  Bidder.'  " 

In  September,  1887,  Mr.  Sothern  originated  an  ec- 
centric part  in  "The  Great  Pink  Pearl."  Subsequent 
to  this,  Mr.  Daniel  Frohman  made  an  engagement  with 
him  as  a  star  for  three  years.  And  from  this  period 
his  professional  advancement  has  been  steady  and 
unbroken. 

In    August,  1888,   Mr.   Sothern  made  another  great 


290  FAMOUS   AMERICAN   ACTORS   OK   TO-DAY. 

hit  as  Lord  Chumley  in  the  phiy  bearing  that  name, 
written  for  him  by  Messrs.  Behisco  and  De  Mille.  Mr. 
Sothern  played  liis  successes  in  "The  Highest  Bitlder" 
and  in  "  Lord  Chumley "  in  all  the  great  cities  of 
America,  commanding  the  warmest  approval  of  the 
press  everywhere,  and  drawing  packed  houses. 

On  Aug.  26,  1890,  he  originated  the  role  of  Allen 
Rollick  in  **The  Maister  of  Woodbarrovv,"  by  Jerome  K. 
Jerome,  in  which  he  made  a  brilliant  hit,  eclipsing  his 
previous  great  successes  in  "The  Highest  Bidder"  and 
"Lord  Chumley."  Jack  Hammerton,  iii  "The  Highest 
Bidder,"  and  Lord  Chumley  were  great  characteriza- 
tions, but  somewhat  similar  as  types,  whereas  Allen 
Rollick  was  absolutely  a  new  line  of  acting  for  Mr. 
Sothern  ;  and  it  was  with  consummate  skill,  power,  and 
finesse  that  he  portrayed  the  crude,  true-hearted,  manly 
youth,  Allen  Rollick,  in  marked  contrast  to  the  more 
conventional  roles  as  shown  in  the  parts  of  Jack  Ham- 
merton and  Lord  Chumley. 

On  Aug,  31,  1891,  he  appeared  at  the  Lyceum 
Theatre  as  the  Duke  of  Guisebury  in  "The  Dancing 
Girl,"  by  Henry  Arthur  Jones.  This  play  occupied 
the  stage  during  his  season  at  the  Lyceum.  In  the 
part  of  the  Duke,  Mr.  Sothern  made  the  best  perform- 
ance he  had  ever  presented  to  the  public.  It  was  en- 
tirely different  in  its  artistic  demands  on  Mr.  Sothern 
from  any  character  that  he  had  previously  acted.  In 
the  early  performances  of  the  part  he  was  seemingly 
overweighted.  But  it  was  a  seeming  overweight  only, 
caused  by  the  nervousness  of  first  performances  of  a 
new  role,  a  full  appreciation  of  the  strength  of  the 
part,  and  a  fear  of  overacting.  As  the  performances 
progressed,  Mr.  Sothern  was  incessantly  studying  the 


EDWARD   H.  SOTHERN. 


291 


part,  analyzing  its  every  phase  and  detail,  testing  a  bit 
of  coloring  here  and  a  bit  there  in  his  rendition,  at  one 
point  deepening  a  shadow,  and  at  another  lightening  it, 
until  his  impersonation  of  the  Duke  of  Guisebury  be- 
came, in  breadth,  strength,  power,  subtlety,  nicety  of 
delicate  shading  and  coloring,  one  of  the  finest  perform- 
ances ever  seen  on  the  New  York  stage. 

His  Captain  Latterblair  attracted  attention,  as  also 
did  his  hero  in  "The  Way  to  Win  a  Woman  ;  "  but  his 
greatest  popular  success  has  been  the  triple  character 
of  the  drunken  king,  the  adventurous  Englishman,  and 
the  historic  ancestor  of  the  two,  in  "The  Prisoner  of 
Zend  a." 

Mr.  Sothern's  success  has  been  achieved  by  an  earn- 
est, persistent  pursuit  of  his  profession,  to  whose  exact- 
ing demands  he  is  and  ever  has  been  loyal.  He  is  at 
all  times  a  hard  student  and  a  faithful  worker,  and  no 
outside  influence  diverts  him  from  his  duties. 

To  his  intimates  he  is  known  as  the  most  genial,  de- 
lightful of  companions,  with  the  bright,  happy,  ingenu- 
ous nature  of  sunny  boyhood.  He  has  a  great  deal  of 
the  humor  that  characterized  his  father,  and  has  the 
keenest  possible  sense  of  the  ludicrous,  tells  a  good 
joke,  and  enjoys  one  with  infinite  relish. 

He  is  a  loyal  friend,  and  above  all  instinctively  a 
gentleman,  snns  pciir,  stiiis  rcprochc.  He  is  sensitive 
and  retiring,  qualities  always  characteristic  of  an  artis- 
tic nature;  and  these  traits  in  him  have  often  induced 
those  who  knew  him  slightly  to  think  him  cold.  The 
very  reverse  is  true  of  him.  For  he  is  best  loved  by 
those  whose  knowledge  of  him  is  most  thorough  ;  and 
this  is  the  truest  test  of  character. 


ALEXANDER    SALVINI. 

By  James  Albert  Waluron. 


All  men  may  be  born  free  and  equal,  but  all  are  not 
equipped  alike.  Paternal  or  maternal  endowment,  or 
both,  count  for  something  in  this  world  of  mental  and 
physical  battle.  Blood  and  brain  and  brawn  in  the 
begetters  all  tell.  Genius  may  be  an  accident,  but 
under  proper  conditions  it  may  produce  something 
quite  akin  to  itself ;  and  a  filial  passion  for  emulation, 
which  is  frequent  in  families  of  fine  fibre  and  artistic 
temperament,  when  spurred  by  noble  example  and  fa- 
vored by  a  sympathetic  atmosphere,  is  almost  always  a 
leader  to  artistic  accomplishment.  Sometimes  it  does 
not  stop  below  the  triumphs  of  genius,  though  its  type 
is  never  like  that  which  inspired  it. 

The  world  has  echoed  plaudits  of  Tomasso  Salvini. 
Because  he  was  a  majestic  figure  of  the  theatre  it  did 
not  follow  of  course  that  his  son  should  ornament  it. 
But  was  there  any  reason  why  that  son  should  not  fol- 
low his  ambition  to  the  stage  ? 

Alexander  Salvini  was,  and  is,  no  doubt,  as  earnestly 
and  honorably  desirous  of  carving  out  his  future  in  the 
theatre  as  was  his  illustrious  father.  He  has  elected 
to  be  known  as  an  American  actor.  He  has,  in  a  com- 
paratively  short  time,  won   rapid  way  to  the  popular 

292 


ALEXANDER  SALVINI. 


ALEXANDER   SALVINI. 


293 


heart.  If  we  cavil  at  his  nationality,  and  frown  upon 
his  assumption  of  adoption,  we  at  once  confess  unreason 
or  short  memory.  There  is  little  of  striking  note  in 
this  country,  except  tobacco  and  the  Indian,  remotely 
native;  and  we  must  not  forget  that  even  the  Puritans 
were  immigrants. 

Alexander  was  the  third  son  of  Tomasso  Salvini,  and 
was  born  in  Rome,  Italy,  Dec.  21,  i86r.  His  younger 
days  were  spent  in  Florence,  his  father's  home;  and 
here  and  in  Switzerland  he  was  educated  for  the  profes- 
sion of  a  civil  engineer.  "But,"  says  a  friend  of  Alex- 
ander, "  nature  had  no  sympathy  with  this  intention. 
In  his  father's  home  he  had  inhaled  always  the  atmos- 
phere of  art,  the  inherited  instinct  was  in  his  blood, 
and  the  seeming  accident  which  finally  determined  his 
career  was  only  necessity  in  disguise." 

In  Florence,  where  Salvini  was  almost  the  apotheosis 
of  dramatic  art,  it  was  to  be  expected  that  his  children 
should  be  looked  upon  as  natural  perpetuators  of  his 
genius.  To  enlist  them  in  amateur  theatricals  was 
regarded  as  a  great  achievement,  and  no  doubt  also 
as  a  most  fit  thing.  The  father,  who.se  dramatic  ideals 
were  so  high  that  he  did  not  wish  to  have  any  of  his 
name  after  him  fall  below  them  so  far  as  to  take  from 
the  lustre  of  his  life-work,  and  probably  believing 
that  he  had  not  transmitted  the  vital  spark,  discour- 
aged these  endeavors;  and  while  he  was  at  home  such 
efforts  were  frowned  down.  I^ut  during  his  first  tour 
of  America,  Alexander  was  asked  to  appear  in  a  benefit 
performance,  and  most  willingly  consented.  The  play 
was  "The  .Son  of  Titian,"  a  passionate,  romantic  crea- 
tion of  Alfred  de  Musset.  The  audience  was  in  his 
favor.     All   the  surroundings  were  sympathetic.     The 


294 


FAMOUS   AMERICAN   ACTORS   OF   TO-DAV. 


boy  fairly  trembling  with  eagerness,  and  filled  with  the 
hot  blood  of  his  sire,  artless,  yet  vigorous  and  emo- 
tional, won  plaudits  that  might  have  turned  an  older 
head.  On  the  father's  return  he  was  besought  to  con- 
sent to  his  son's  adoption  of  the  theatre.  He  did  not 
seem  to  yield.  He  sent  Alexander  to  America.  Did 
he  think  that  in  the  distractions  of  travel  and  a  strange 
land  the  boy  would  forget  his  passion,  perhaps  meet 
rebuffs,  and  return  to  prosily  pursue  an  engineer's 
calling.''  or  did  he  then  have  an  inkling  of  the  truth, 
that  the  boy  would  credit  him  in  his  own  great  pro- 
fession ? 

Adventitious  circumstances  assisted  Alexander  in  his 
American  venture.  The  American  manager  of  theatres 
is  no  less  enterprising  for  novelty,  and  no  less  skilful 
in  detecting  symptoms  from  the  public  pulse,  than  was 
that  distinguished  circus  caterer  and  philosopher  who 
disenveloped  himself  from  mortality  at  Bridgeport. 
•  The  Salvini  had  left  our  shores  showered  with  won- 
dering praise  and  with  money  m  his  purse.  Here  was 
his  son,  —  a  mere  youth  it  is  true,  —  and  he  wanted  an 
engagement.  A  want  quickly  filled.  The  patronymic 
was  enough.     Curiosity  would  supply  all  else. 

The  elder  Salvini  knew  no  English,  but  his  art  was 
all  interpretative.  The  son  knew  too  well  that  liis  art 
was  not  all  interpretative.  The  elder  Salvini  had 
struggled  to  accustom  his  tongue  to  our  strange  and 
diflficult  speech.  It  was  impossible  —  as  hopeless  as 
would  be  the  effort  of  a  mighty  tree  to  uproot  itself 
and  seek  foundation  in  an  alien  soil.  The  son  was  a 
sapling,  and  quickly  took  new  root. 

The  work  of  foreign  actresses — most  notable,  Mod- 
jeska — in  the  acquisition   of   English   has  been   mar- 


ALEXANDER   SALVINI. 


295 


veiled  at.  It  is  safe  to  say,  however,  that  no  man  or 
woman  of  foreign  birth,  and  without  knowledge  of 
English,  has  in  the  time  spent  by  Alexander  Salvini 
so  mastered  this  language.  To-day  his  speech,  in  his 
quieter  artistic  moments,  is  a  delight  to  the  native 
ear.  It  is  almost  free  from  even  a  trace  of  unfa- 
miliar accent,  and  his  knowledge  and  enunciation  of 
its  subtler  values  are  remarkable.  He  has  the  natural 
and  nervously  energetic  intelligence  expected  of  any 
son  of  his  father.  But  his  triumph  over  the  difficul- 
ties that  beset  the  Italian  who  seeks  to  accomplish 
English  is  due  mainly  to  astounding  application  to  the 
task.  His  accomplishment  has  been  gained  by  work 
that  would  tire  even  a  genius,  and  appall  and  dishearten 
almost  any  .son  of  a  genius. 

There  are  stories  of  this  young  man's  earlier  habits 
in  this  country  that  account  for  what  his  parentage 
might  not  explain.  They  are  of  an  almost  ascetic 
bachelorhood,  amused  by  the  companionship  of  favorite 
dogs,  a  fencing-master,  and  a  tutor  in  luiglish.  Exer- 
cise to  at  least  conserve  the  splendid  physique  which 
that  almost  physically  matchless  father  bequeathed  ; 
persistent,  unremitting  mental  application  and  vocal 
practice  to  master  a  strange  speech.  Work.  The 
hardest  kind  of  work.     What  will  it  not  fulfd  ? 

Alexander  Salvini  made  his  first  appearance  in  New 
York,  at  the  Union  Square  Theatre,  Feb.  23.  1882,  in 
the  leading  male  ro/c  of  Georges  Duhamel  in  "  Article 
47,"  with  Clara  Morris.  He  had  then  studied  ICnglish 
three  month.s.  It  is  not  strange  that  he  did  not  then 
speak  it.  He  tried  to.  And  he  put  such  young  vigor 
and  earnestness  into  his  acting  that  he  made  friends. 
Those  in  the  audience  who  could  discriminate  saw  fire 


296  FAMOUS   AMERICAN   ACTORS   OF  TO-DAY. 

in  him.  It  was  not  the  light  of  a  star  whose  place  had 
been  fixed  witli  relation  to  surrounding  constellations  ; 
but  it  was  a  light,  and  a  new  one.  It  might  be  mete- 
oric. There  were  those  who  were  quick  to  discredit,  as 
well  as  those  who  could  encourage  and  expect.  The 
son  of  an  eminent  father  had  made  an  experiment. 
Experiments  fail,  and  experiments  do  not  fail.  Those 
that  have  not  failed  have  given  the  earth  progress. 
Young  Salvini's  experiment  was  not  a  failure  ;  it  was 
the  prologue  to  a  story  of  success. 

As  soon  as  the  elder  Salvini  was  convinced  that  his 
son  was  fatally  ardent  for  the  theatre,  and  that  with 
encouragement  he  might  succeed,  he  consented  to  the 
young  man's  choice.  Thenceforward  Alexander  had 
the  best  engagements  to  choose  from.  F'or  two  years 
he  appeared  with  Margaret  Mather  in  a  round  of 
legitimate  romantic  parts,  and  subsequently  for  three 
years  was  a  magnetic  and  picturesque  figure  in  A.  M. 
Palmer's  notable  Madison  Square  Company.  He  played 
other  and  touring  engagements,  and  for  two  seasons 
supported  his  famed  father  in  this  country  before  he 
ventured  upon  his  own  footing  as  a  star. 

There  is  no  suggestion,  of  course,  that  Alexander 
Salvini  reached  the  success  he  now  enjoys  at  a  bound  ; 
or  that  he  can  to-day  be  called  as  great  as  some  of 
his  friends  believe  him  to  be  ;  or  that  he  has  not  yet 
much  to  master,  and  as  much  to  define  and  refine.  As 
he  stands,  however,  he  is  one  of  the  most  interesting 
masculine  figures  on  the  American  stage. 

In  fourteen  years  he  mastered  more  than  thirty  char- 
acters. When  one  realizes  that  to  master  all  of  the 
lines  and  intricacies  of  a  single  drama  so  as  to  describe 
its  leading  character  even  acceptably  is  a  labor  almost 


ALEXANDER   SALVINI. 


297 


as  great  as  the  actual  production  of  a  literary  work  of 
moment, — a  story  or  a  play,  if  you  please, — Alexander 
Salvini's  remarkable  industry  and  admirable  achiev- 
ments  may  be  appreciated  in  part.  When  we  remem- 
ber the  lingual  difficulties  of  the  tasks,  the  results 
become  nothing  less  than  wonderful.  Some  of  these 
many  characters  of  course,  and  notably  the  earlier 
ones,  he  has  not  touched  distinguishedly  in  the  sense 
of  artistic  consummation  ;  others  he  has  raised  to  new 
eminences  :  to  all  he  has  given  an  attention  and  an  em- 
phasis all  his  own,  and  in  them  developed  conceptive 
details  that  index  future  possibilities  and  probabilities 
rather  than  illustrate  any  self-consciousness  of  present 
perfection  ;  and  in  none  has  he  utterly  failed.  Where 
is  there  a  record  like  it  on  the  contemporary  stage  ? 

In  those  vivid,  warm-blooded,  spontaneous,  and  ro- 
mantic roll's  which  will  outlive  all  attempted  instate- 
ments  of  the  realistically  commonplace  ujx)n  the  stage, 
young  Salvini  revels  naturally.  In  some  of  them  he 
stands  peerless  to-day.  Perhaps  no  character  better 
than  that  of  D'Artagnan  in  "The  Three  Guardsmen" 
illustrates  his  peculiar  stage  utility  at  this  time.  Me 
lives,  he  looks,  he  is  the  brave,  ingenuous,  daring,  gal- 
lant, loyal,  and  impulsive  youth  —  an  intensified  type  it 
is  true,  yet  vitally  human  and  ever  admirable  —  created 
by  Dumas.  The  most  fatigued  play-goer  may  witness 
Salvini  in  this  idle,  and  quaff  from  him  a  rejuvenating 
draught  of  life.  The  character  fits  young  Salvini's  per- 
sonality as  perfectly  as  that  of  Sam.son  sympathizes 
with  the  ripe,  antediluvian  suggestion  of  primitive 
man's  massivity  which  the  elder  Salvini  presents.  The 
feats  of  Samson,  again,  were  of  course  far  removed 
from  the  exploits  of  u  D'Artagnan. 


298  FAMOUS   AMERICAN   ACTORS   OF   TO-DAY. 

No  one  who  has  studied  young  Salvini  can  deny  that 
he  has  genius.  When  that  is  wedded  to  rare  indus- 
try, as  it  is  in  him,  much  may  be  hoped  for.  He  has 
faults,  but  they  are  those  of  an  enthusiasm  and  a  vigor 
that  hand  in  hand  sometimes  sweep  all  bounds.  In- 
trinsically they  are  not  faults,  they  are  but  blemishes. 

Alexander  Salvini,  too,  is  versatile.  The  compre- 
hending circle  of  his  versatility,  it  is  true,  displays  no 
such  arcs  as  does  that  of  his  father,  with  whom  he 
nevertheless  has  something  in  common.  The  father, 
perfect  in  pose  and  repose,  finished  in  poise  and  equi- 
poise, stands  a  stately  figure  in  his  native  land,  whose 
atmosphere  is  filled  with  the  traditions  of  ages  of  great 
achievement  in  all  the  fields  of  art.  All  other  lands 
and  atmospheres  arc  foreign.  He  is  as  natural  there 
as  are  the  monuments  which  pilgrims  study.  The 
son,  dominated  by  a  legacy  of  paternal  genius,  and 
moved  perhaps  by  the  maternal  strain  in  his  blood, 
adventures.  The  artistic  holies  of  the  land  that  gave 
him  birth  are  no  doubt  holy  to  him  ;  but  his  tempera- 
ment is  not  his  father's  temperament.  He  enters  and 
assimilates  with  a  new  world.  In  a  younger  atmos- 
phere he  inhales  ambition,  and  works  to  ascend. 


JAMES  O'NEIL  IN   ■   MONTE  CRISTO." 


JAMES    O'NEILL 

I5y  IIakkison  Gkky  Fiske. 


The  Emerald  Isle  has  contributed  her  full  quota  of 
genius  to  the  stage.  The  fiery,  volatile,  persuasive 
Irish  temperament,  when  it  is  united  with  the  dramatic 
instinct,  produces  players  whose  versatility,  grace,  and 
eloquence  compare  favorably  with  the  finest  histrionic 
representatives  of  the  French,  —  the  nation  that  the 
Irish  race  resembles  most  nearly.  Many  of  the  illus- 
trious names  that  are  written  on  the  pages  of  I-Lnglish 
dramatic  history  are  unmistakably  Hibernian.  I'-ng- 
land's  enfant  terrible  has  never  learned  to  govern  her- 
self ;  but  she  has  seized  and  swayed  the  sceptre,  time 
and  again,  in  the  realms  of  poetry,  oratory,  and  the 
drama.  Erin  sent  Macklin,  Doggett,  O'Neill,  and  Wof- 
fington,  in  ye  olden  tyme,  to  wear,  with  memorable 
effect,  the  masque  of  Comus  ;  while  we  moderns  are 
indebted  to  her  for  such  characteristic  sons  as  Dion 
Houcicault  and  Barry  Sullivan,  the  one  bringing  us  the 
smile  of  her  green  southern  slopes,  and  the  other  the 
trown  of  her  beetling  northern  crags. 

The  best  example  of  Irish  dramatic  genius,  in  its  re- 
fined and  picturesque  aspects,  posses.sed  by  the  Ameri- 
can stage  at  this  time,  is  James  O'Neill.  Mention  of 
Kilkenny  ought   to  call   to  our  mind  that   handsome, 

299 


300  FAMOUS   AMERICAN   ACTORS   OF  TO-DAY. 

brilliant  player,  instead  of  the  inevitable  feline  comba- 
tants ;  for  it  was  in  Kilkenny  that  he  first  saw  the  light. 
Beneath  the  shadows  of  its  gray  cathedral,  and  its  im- 
memorial round  tower,  and  among  its  monastic  ruins, 
his  careless  childhood  was  spent.  He  played  in  the 
mossy  moat  of  Strongbow's  ancient  castle  ;  and  he  saw 
the  gowned  collegians  enter  the  portals  of  the  institu- 
tion of  learning  where  Swift,  Congreve,  Farquhar,  and 
Bishop  Berkeley  drank  their  youthful  fill  of  scholastic 
knowledge.  It  was  in  this  quiet  haven  of  Catholicism 
that  he  imbibed  the  deep  religious  feeling  that  has  re- 
mained with  him  throughout  his  career,  —  a  simple, 
trusting  faith  that  has  withstood  the  shock  of  all  the 
complex  and  contending  interests  of  this  work-a-day 
world  and  this  land  of  materialistic  influences. 

The  boy  was  but  seven  years  of  age  when  he  came 
to  this  country  with  his  father.  While  yet  a  lad  the 
father  died,  and  he  was  left  to  battle  for  existence 
alone.  His  first  employment  came  from  a  clothier. 
He  stuck  to  it  a  couple  of  years,  meanwhile  chafing 
at  his  lot,  and  resolving  to  make  a  bid  for  some- 
thing more  to  his  taste  at  the  first  opportunity.  As 
with  many  another  ambitious  young  fellow,  the  stage 
seemed  to  offer  a  more  promising  field  than  anything 
else.  He  saw  some  of  the  good  actors  of  the  day, 
and  felt  emulous.  And  so  O'Neill  became  an  actor 
in  the  twilight  of  the  palmy  days. 

When  he  made  his  first  appearance  at  the  old  Na- 
tional Theatre  in  Cincinnati,  just  before  the  war,  — -or, 
to  be  exact,  in  i860,  —  the  theatrical  revolution  that 
afterward  transmogrified  the  American  stage  had  not 
yet  begun.  The  youth  was  one  of  the  last  to  receive 
the    benefits   of   the    rigorous    schoolin<r   that    novices 


JAMES   O'NEILL  3OI 

were  then  able  to  obtain.  Before  his  talents  reached 
their  zenith,  the  change  had  come  ;  but  adjusting  him- 
self to  it  with  true  Irish  facility,  he  preserved  many 
of  the  excellences,  and  eschewed  the  faults,  of  that  fast 
receding  period.  Although  it  is  the  fashion  now  to  dis- 
credit the  methods  then  in  vogue,  to  sneer  at  the  crude 
and  hasty  performances  beside  which  the  sumptuous 
productions  of  to-day  appear  vastly  superior,  the  fact  re- 
mains that  that  was  the  day  of  pure  histrionism,  as  this 
is  the  day  of  artistic  detail.  The  men  that  achieved 
eminence  then  had  only  histrionic  ability  to  back  them. 
And  so  it  is  that,  although  the  traditions  of  that  time 
have  become  a  misty  memory,  and  although  the  plays, 
the  actors,  and  the  public  taste  of  ante-bellum  days 
are  viewed  with  little  veneration  from  the  coign  of 
vantage  occupied  by  play-goers  of  the  last  decade  of 
the  greatest  of  all  the  centuries,  still  it  must  be  con- 
fessed that  the  actors  now  in  their  prime,  that  passed 
their  young  apprenticeship  in  the  heart  of  the  cease- 
less activity  of  the  old  time,  learning  all  that  old  time 
had  to  teach,  have  held  in  trust  and  perpetuated  for 
their  successors  at  least  a  remnant  of  a  rich  dramatic 
heritage. 

The  first  line  O'Neill  spoke  in  public  was  uttered 
in  the  modest  character  of  a  guest  at  "  Lucy  Ash- 
ton's  "  wedding.  After  a  few  months  at  the  National, 
the  young  Thespian  joined  a  small  travelling  company. 
Travelling  engagements  were  by  no  means  tiieii  the 
comparatively  lu.xurious  bertiis  tiiat  they  are  to-day. 
O'Neill's  experience  was  decidedly  unpleasant.  He 
had  the  usual  mishajis  that  befell  barn-stormers  in  the 
sparsely  populatetl  territory  of  the  West,  not  the  least 
of  which  (in  his  then  condition)  was  the  loss  of  several 


302  FAMOUS   AMERICAN   ACTORS   OF  TO-DAY. 

trunks  at  divers  and  sundry  times  to  satisfy  the  de- 
mands of  cruel  landlords.  Salary  days  were  not  in  the 
manager's  calendar  ;  and  when  the  company  finally  col- 
lapsed in  an  obscure  town  of  Illinois,  O'Neill  had  no 
other  earthly  possessions  than  the  clothes  he  stood  in. 
It  was,  perhaps,  as  a  delicate  tribute  to  these  roving 
experiences  that  he  was  soon  after  engaged  to  play 
"  walking  gentleman  "  at  the  St.  Louis  Varieties,  now 
known  as  the  Grand  Opera  House.  The  season  fol- 
lowing he  was  located  in  Cincinnati,  under  Robert 
Miles's  management.  There  he  remained  until  1869, 
supporting  the  principal  stars,  and  acquiring  the  use- 
ful expedients  associated  with  the  business  of  playing 
many  and  various  parts,  every  week  in  the  protracted 
season  meaning  an  unbroken  succession  of  rehearsals 
and  performances,  and,  of  course,  no  lack  of  hard  work. 
The  following  season  he  obtained  an  engagement  at 
the  Holliday  Street  Theatre  in  Baltimore,  under  John 
T.  Ford.  "Leading  juvenile"  was  his  line  of  busi- 
ness, and  he  became  a  favorite  with  the  Baltimoreans 
and  with  play-goers  generally  in  the  Southern  cities 
visited  by  Mr.  Ford's  company.  He  went  afterward 
to  Cleveland  to  play  in  the  excellent  company  at  the 
Academy  of  Music,  managed  by  John  Ellsler.  Here, 
for  the  first  time,  he  was  promoted  to  the  honors  and 
the  emoluments  of  a  leading  man. 

Soon  after  the  great  fire,  O'Neill  became  the  leader 
of  the  strong  company  at  McVicker's  Theatre,  in 
Chicago.  During  the  two  years  that  he  remained  with 
that  organization  he  lent  excellent  support  to  Charlotte 
Cushman,  Adelaide  Neilson,  Edwin  Booth,  and  many 
other  famous  actors.  It  was  then  that  he  laid  the 
foundation  of  the  remarkable  popularity  he  has  enjoyed 


JAMES   O'NEILL.  3O3 

uninterruptedly  among  the  Chicagoans,  who  cherish 
the  amiable  fiction  that  he  is  a  "  Chicago  actor,"  and 
refuse  absolutely  to  believe  that  his  start  in  the  pro- 
fession was  made  elsewhere.  At  the  conclusion  of 
his  contract  with  Mr.  McVicker,  O'Neill  transferred 
his  allegiance  to  Hooley's  Theatre  —  then,  as  now,  a 
prosperous  rival  of  the  older  house.  In  this  stock  com- 
pany he  played  many  parts,  and  played  them  so  suc- 
cessfully that  Mr.  Hooley,  on  going  to  San  Francisco, 
took  O'Neil  with  him  for  a  special  engagement  of  three 
months.  The  three  months  lengthened  into  a  year ; 
and  tlie  Californians,  won  by  his  charm  and  delighted 
by  his  acting,  were  beginning  to  think  that  they  had 
weaned  him  from  the  East  for  good  and  all,  when  A. 
M.  Palmer,  hearing  of  his  success,  coveted  O'Neill's 
presence  in  his  stock  company  at  the  Union  Square 
Theatre,  New  York,  beyond  question  the  strongest 
corps  of  actors,  viewed  in  its  entirety,  that  the  metrop- 
olis of  the  New  World  has  possessed.  O'Neill  shared 
the  leading  parts  with  Charles  R.  Thorne,  Jr.,  for  two 
seasons. 

When  we  recall  the  cripple  Pierre  in  "  The  Two 
Orphans,"  we  think  of  James  O'Neill;  and  when  "The 
Danicheffs  "  is  mentioned,  it  is  to  couple  with  that  fine 
production  his  Prince.  Two  actors  never  afforded  a 
sharper  contrast  than  was  afforded  by  the  conjunction 
of  Thorne  and  O'Neill,  —  Thorne  muscular,  stalwart, 
dignified,  strong  in  the  consciousness  of  that  matchless 
reserve  power  which  lifted  him  to  the  pedestal  of  i)opu- 
lar  admiration;  O'Neill  slender,  sinuous,  picturesque, 
mellow-voiced,  passionate-eyed.  Ivich  in  his  own  way 
filled  the  public  eye,  each  won  his  own  triumphs.  Res- 
tive as  he  had  always  been,  O'Neill  cherished  a  long- 


304 


FAMOUS   AMERICAN   ACTORS   OF  TO-DAY. 


ing  to  return  to  the  city  of  the  Golden  Gate.  When  an 
offer  came,  —  as  it  did  come  before  long,  —  he  brushed 
the  dust  of  Manhattan  from  his  buskin,  and  again 
located  in  San  Francisco,  where  his  friends  welcomed 
him  back  with  open  arms.  Here  he  remained  nearly 
three  years,  toward  the  end  of  which  period  there  came 
into  his  experience  a  singular  thing.  Many  an  actor 
has  played  the  devil,  both  figuratively  and  literally ;  but 
no  actor,  outside  of  the  reverent  band  of  peasant  dev- 
otees at  Oberammcrgau,  except  James  O'Neill,  has 
been  called  upon  to  play  the  Messiah.  Maguire,  his 
manager,  had  been  induced  by  an  erratic  Jew  named 
Salmi  Morse  to  announce  for  production  a  Passion 
Play  that  Morse  had  written  some  time  previously. 

Maguire  was  a  speculator,  shrewd,  alert,  enterpris- 
ing;  and  he  saw  a  sensation  in  the  scheme.  O'Neill 
was  asked  by  Maguire  to  play  the  Christ.  At  first 
the  actor  refused,  although,  according  to  the  terms  of 
his  contract,  he  had  no  choice  but  to  play  the  parts  for 
which  he  was  cast  by  the  management.  The  idea  of 
representing  the  Saviour  on  the  stage  of  a  theatre  was 
repugnant  to  his  strongly  developed  religious  feelings. 
When  he  learned,  however,  that  Morse's  play  had  been 
revised  and  approved  by  a  priest  of  the  Catholic  Church, 
he  withdrew  his  objections,  and  consented  to  originate 
the  character.  He  approached  the  impersonation  in  a 
fervid  and  reverent  spirit  ;  to  him  it  was  not  acting,  it 
was  devotion.  His  make-up  was  remarkable  :  his  face 
suggested  the  beauty,  the  purity,  and  the  divine  com- 
passion that  we  find  in  the  immortal  canvases  of  the 
Italian  masters.  The  interpretation  made  a  deep  im- 
pression ;  but  public  opinion  frowned  upon  the  produc- 
tion, and  after  running  a  few  weeks,  during  which  the 


JAMES  O'NEIL  305 

theatre  was  packed  nightly,  it  had  to  be  withdrawn  in 
obedience  to  the  mandate  of  the  authorities. 

In  spite  of  this  warning,  Henry  E.  Abbey  deter- 
mined to  present  Morse's  play  at  Booth's  Theatre,  New 
York,  which  was  then  under  his  direction.  He  offered 
O'Neill  five  hundred  dollars  a  week  to  play  his  origi- 
nal part,  and  O'Neill  accepted.  Mr.  Abbey  at  once 
began  to  make  elaborate  preparations  for  the  pro- 
duction. A  large  company  of  well-known  actors  was 
engaged,  rehearsals  began,  and  the  theatre  was  re- 
christened  "  Booth's  Tabernacle."  Although  it  was 
announced  with  much  emphasis  that  the  affair  would 
be  conducted  with  the  decorum  and  the  zeal  that 
marked  the  Oberammergau  exhibitions,  public  opinion 
was  against  the  Passion  Play  from  the  start.  Tlie  pul- 
pit, irrespective  of  creed  and  denomination,  thundered 
against  the  proposed  desecration  of  the  Christian  reli- 
gion;  the  leading  members  of  the  dramatic  profession 
protested  vehemently  against  the  proposed  desecration 
of  the  American  theatre.  The  press  poured  murder- 
ous broadsides  into  the  enterprise  ;  petitions  were 
signed  i)y  thousands  of  representative  citizens  request- 
ing the  Board  of  Aldermen  to  enact  an  ordinance  pro- 
hibiting the  performance  ;  dead-letter  laws  against 
blasphemy  were  brought  to  light  ;  and  the  manager, 
author,  actors,  and  every  one  concerned  in  the  obnox- 
ious venture,  were  threatened  with  arrest.  As  the  date 
of  the  first  representation  drew  near,  the  storm  burst 
anew  with  redoubled  fury.  There  were  rumors  of  a 
riotous  demonstration.  It  was  too  much  for  Mr.  Abbey. 
He  realized  that  he  had  made  a  mistake,  and  that  to 
persist  in  his  intention  would  be  hazardous,  not  to  say 
ruinous.     A   few  days  before  the    night    set    for    the 


306  FAMOUS   AMERICAN   ACTORS   OF   TO-DAY 

production,  he  published  a  card  in  the  newspapers, 
wherein  he  protested  the  honesty  of  his  intentions,  but 
yielded  to  the  popular  sentiment,  and  abandoned  his 
plans.  That  was  practically  the  death  of  the  Passion 
Play  in  New  York.  Salmi  Morse,  enraged  by  the 
success  of  the  popular  opposition,  took  a  church  on  the 
site  of  the  present  Twenty-third  Street  Theatre,  and 
with  capital  supplied  by  Western  speculators  trans- 
formed it  into  a  theatre,  engaged  a  number  of  ama- 
teurs, and  announced  the  performance.  The  police 
interfered,  and  prevented  the  sale  of  tickets.  Then 
Morse  sent  out  invitations  to  a  private  performance. 
The  representation  was  a  farce  ;  the  play  was  found 
to  be  poor  stuff,  viewed  from  either  a  literary  or  an 
artistic  standpoint.  Morse  lost  the  money  of  his  back- 
ers and  his  reason  simultaneously,  and  not  long  after- 
ward his  lifeless  body  was  found  in  the  Hudson. 

Soon  after  the  Passion  Play  incident,  O'Neill  ap- 
peared in  an  ephemeral  play  called  "  Deacon  Crank- 
ett."  He  then  made  his  first  essay  as  a  star  "on 
the  road"  in  a  play  by  Charles  Dazey,  entitled  "An 
American  King."  This  venture  was  not  crowned  with 
pecuniary  rewards.  Not  long  afterward  John  Stet- 
son engaged  him  to  play  Edmond  Dantes  in  "  Monte 
Cristo,"  at  Booth's  Theatre,  in  New  York.  The  extent 
of  his  personal  success  in  this  fine  production  of  Fech- 
ter's  dramatic  version  of  Dumas's  great  story  embol- 
dened O'Neill  to  buy  the  play  and  its  entire  outfit 
outright  from  Stetson,  and  to  take  it  on  tour  under  his 
own  management.  From  that  time  through  the  suc- 
cessive seasons,  O'Neill  has  starred  as  Edmond  Dantes 
throughout  the  United  States,  achieving  remarkable 
popularity  with  all  classes  of  theatre-goers,  and  accumu- 


JAMES   O'NEIL  307 

lating  a  snug  fortune.  During  a  portion  of  the  season 
of  1 890-1 891  he  appeared  in  an  elaborate  production  of 
"  The  Dead  Heart,"  a  gloomy  old  melodrama  to  which 
attention  had  been  recalled  by  Henry  Irving's  sump- 
tuous revival  at  the  London  Lyceum  Theatre.  The 
public  clamored  for  "Monte  Cristo,"  and  O'Neill  found 
it  expedient  to  respond  to  this  demand.  He  made  an 
effort  to  return  to  the  drama  of  modern  life  with  "  The 
Envoy,"  which  he  presented  in  the  spring  of  1891  ;  but 
the  play  was  bad,  and  the  result  of  the  experiment  was 
discouraging.  The  public  preferred  O'Neill  in  the  old 
favorite  with  which  he  had  been  identified  during  the 
major  portion  of  his  starring  career,  and  he  yielded  to 
its  choice.  Latterly  he  has  appeared  occasionally  as 
Virgin ius,  Richelieu,  and  Hamlet  ;  but  in  the  future 
O'Neill  undoubtedly  will  devote  himself  almost  exclu- 
sively to  the  romantic  drama. 

And  this  is  as  it  should  be,  for  among  romantic 
actors  O'Neill  stsinds  faci'/i' />n'//C(/>s.  He  has  not  the 
trained  intellectual  virility  of  Fechter,  whose  successor 
he  may  well  be  called  ;  but  he  possesses  even  in  a 
greater  degree  Fechter's  poetic  charm  and  Fechter's 
enkindling  power.  His  face  is  beautiful,  — beautiful  in 
its  cameo-like  profile,  and  beautiful  in  its  mobile  ex- 
pressiveness. His  eyes  are  large,  dark,  and  lustrous, 
dreamy  in  repose,  flashing  in  action.  His  mouth  is 
sensitive,  yet  firm,  the  shade  of  sadness  blending  with 
its  smile  giving  a  strange  interest  to  the  whole  counte- 
nance. His  movements  are  grace  itself ;  his  attitudes 
are  superbly  picturesque.  His  voice  is  rich,  mellow, 
and  musical ;  and  it  is  susceptible  of  a  wide  range  of 
expression.  His  speech  is  just  tinged  with  a  bit  of  the 
brogue  that    adds    to,   rather   than   detracts   from,   his 


308  FAMOUS   AMERICAN   ACTORS   OF  TO-DAY. 

many  singular  graces.  In  the  role  of  Dantes  he  dem- 
onstrates his  mastery  of  the  technique  of  stage  art, 
and  exhibits  the  versatility  of  his  talents.  Whether  as 
the  rollicking,  nimble  sailor  of  the  prologue,  or  the  ema- 
ciated convict  making  his  bold  stroke  for  liberty,  or 
the  gentle-voiced,  sad-eyed  priest,  or  the  opulent  Count 
of  Monte  Cristo,  he  is  equally  effective.  Each  phase 
of  this  complex  character  is  perfectly  shown  ;  and  the 
rapid  alternation  of  the  primal  passions  —  love,  hate, 
revenge  —  is  powerfully  exhibited.  His  "  by-])lay  "  — 
that  severest  test  of  an  actor's  resources  —  is  appropri- 
ate, fertile,  characteristic.  He  rises  to  the  full  height 
of  "  situations "  on  pinions  that  seem  equal  to  any 
ascent.  He  scores  his  "points,"  —  for  "points"  are 
inseparable  from  the  roles  of  romantic  stage  heroes,  — 
not  only  with  invariable  precision,  but  with  electrical 
effect.  He  seems  made  to  move  among  the  lords  and 
the  ladies,  the  velvets  and  laces  and  rapiers,  of  the  ro- 
mantic drama;  and  wherever  he  walks  there  is  the  centre 
of  attraction.  He  has  the  graces,  the  art,  the  distinc- 
tion of  bearing,  the  magnetic  quality,  that  are  necessary 
to  put  the  vital  spark  into  those  artificial  dramas  that 
depict  a  life  that  never  existed,  and  whose  characters 
miraculously  control  events  instead  of  being  naturally 
controlled  by  events.  No  scene  is  unreal  or  improbable 
in  which  O'Neill  appears;  he  shuts  the  door  on  reason, 
turns  the  key  in  the  lock,  and  we  sit  entranced  beneath 
the  wondrous  spell  of  the  actor  who  can  conjure  us 
away  from  the  actual,  clothe  dreams  with  flesh  and 
blood,  create  a  new  world  which  we  take  on  faith 
without  a  question,  and  charm  us  with  its  heroes  and 
their  marvellous  exploits. 


/: 


MAGGIE   MITCHELL. 


MAGGIE   MITCHELL. 

By  Luther  L.  Holden. 


The  mere  mention  of  the  name  gracing  the  head  of 
this  page  brings  before  the  mental  vision  of  the  elder 
generation  of  play-goers  a  petite  and  elfish  creature, 
with  a  wealth  of  sunny,  golden  hair,  whose  nervous 
energy  and  sprightliness,  no  less  than  an  exquisite  form 
and  face,  gave  picturesque  presence  to  the  line  of  child 
heroines  she  made  peculiarly  her  own.  As  long  as  she 
chose  to  remain  upon  the  stage,  her  public  was  of  the 
class  that  is  drawn  to  the  theatre  only  by  the  best  and 
purest  in  art. 

While  Margaret  Jane  Mitchell's  early  career  was 
devoid  of  exciting  or  thrilling  incidents,  it  nevertheless 
becomes  interesting  to  trace  her  upward  steps  upon 
the  stage  towards  fame  and  fortune.  Like  all  truly 
successful  artists,  she  began  at  the  foot  of  the  ladder, 
although  her  first  appearance,  as  a  mere  chit  of  a  girl, 
was  in  a  speaking  part.  This  event  took  place  in  her 
native  city  of  New  York,  and  at  a  much  later  date  than 
is  generally  supposed ;  for  the  fact  is  that  the  subject 
of  the  present  sketch  has  frequently  been  confounded 
with  other  actresses  of  the  same  name,  who  were  upon 
the  stage  at  the  time,  or  else  with  older  members  of 
her  own  family,  —  half-sisters.     Her  father  was  Scotch, 

309 


3IO         FAMOUS    AMERTCAX    ACTORS    OF    TO-DAV. 

and  her  mother  English.  The  latter,  at  least,  regarded 
the  theatre  with  horror ;  and  it  was  greatly  to  her  dis- 
may that  she  discovered,  on  her  return  from  a  visit 
to  her  old  English  home,  that  the  child  was  actually 
"  stage  struck." 

Little  Maggie  had  been  placed  out  to  board  during 
her  mother's  absence,  and  continued  attending  school. 
An  inmate  of  the  household  was  Mary  Provost,  the 
daughter  of  a  clergyman,  who  graduated  from  the  posi- 
tion of  a  school-teacher  to  that  of  an  actress,  and  who, 
at  the  time  referred  to,  was  being  coached  in  some 
tragic  characters  by  Mr.  Wyzeman  Marshall.  The 
child  was  mystified  as  to  the  import  of  the  stilted 
speeches  she  heard  from  an  adjoining  apartment,  but 
soon  took  to  imitating  both  teacher  and  pupil.  About 
this  time  she  was  taken  to  a  theatre  —  the  first  she  had 
ever  entered  —  to  see  the  late  Barney  Williams  play. 
This  little  glimpse  of  stageland  fairly  fascinated  her. 
Books,  children's  sports,  and  all  else  were  cast  aside. 
Finding  this  state  of  things  existing  on  her  return,  her 
mother  determined  to  send  the  child  out  of  the  city, 
beyond  such  evil  influences  as  the  theatre.  Overhear- 
ing a  discussion  of  this  project,  the  daughter  became 
downright  rebellious. 

It  had  so  happened,  that  on  her  voyage  back  to 
America  Mrs.  Mitchell  had  met,  among  the  passengers, 
Mr.  John  Moore,  the  old  English  actor,  and  his  family, 
and  found  them  very  agreeable  people.  She  told  Mr. 
Moore  about  her  daughter ;  and,  as  the  acquaintance 
was  kept  up  after  reaching  New  York,  he  came  soon  to 
know  that  the  child  had  fallen  in  love  with  the  foot- 
lights. Mr.  Moore  was  connected  with  the  stage  direc- 
tion of  Burton's  Theatre  in  Chambers  Street ;  and  when, 


MAGGIE    MITCHELL.  3II 

on  the  occasion  of  a  benefit  to  Mrs.  Skerrett,  a  member 
of  Mr.  Burton's  company,  a  child  was  required  to  play 
the  part  of  Julia  in  Cherry's  comedy,  "  The  Soldier's 
Daughter,"  he  bethought  himself  of  little  Miss  Maggie. 
It  required  some  effort  to  win  the  mother's  consent 
for  her  appearance,  but  it  was  finally  gained  ;  and  as 
no  time  was  to  be  lost,  Mr.  Moore  devoted  Sunday  to 
teaching  his  youthful /nV/j^w  the  part  she  was  to  play 
the  succeeding  night.  The  following  morning  she  was 
taken  by  her  mother  to  the  theatre  for  rehearsal. 
Both  then  saw  the  mysterious  region,  "  behind  the 
scenes,"  for  the  first  time;  and  it  was  the  second  time 
Maggie  had  been  within  the  walls  of  a  play-house. 
The  youthful  aspirant  for  stage  honors  was  letter  per- 
fect, both  at  rehearsal  and  at  the  evening  performance ; 
and  it  is  related  of  her  that  assurance  gave  her  a 
degree  of  vehemence  of  delivery  that  fairly  startled 
her  hearers,  Manager  Burton  included.  Thus  Miss 
Mitchell's  first  appearance  on  the  stage  was  made  on 
the  2d  of  June,  185 1.  That  fine  old  comedian,  William 
Rufus  Blake,  was  The  Governor  Ileartall;  the  benefi- 
ciary, Mrs.  Skerrett,  played  the  Widow  Chcerly  ;  and 
Miss  Lizzie  Western  (afterwards  Mrs.  A.  II.  Daven- 
port) and  Lester  Wallack,  who  had  gone  upon  the 
stage  as  Mr.   Lester,  were  also  in  the  cast. 

This  event  transpired  at  the  end  of  the  season,  and 
there  remained  nothing  else  for  Miss  Maggie  to  do  at 
Burton's.  The  ice  was  broken,  however,  and  the  stage 
had  more  allurements  for  her  than  ever.  The  ensuing 
season  (1851- 1853)  found  Mr.  Moore  occupying  the 
position  of  prompter  with  Manager  Thomas  .S.  llam- 
blin  at  the  Bowery  Theatre  ;  aiui  here  Miss  Mitchell 
was  given  a  permanent  engagement   as  a  member  of 


312         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

the  company  at  the  munificent  salary  of  four  dollars  a 
week,  while  her  mother  furnished  her  stage  dresses. 
Here  she  played  a  round  of  boys'  characters,  and 
danced  between  the  acts  with  Gertrude  Dawes.  In 
the  early  part  of  the  season  she  made  a  Shakespearian 
debut  with  an  amusing  result.  Edwin  Eddy  was  playing 
an  engagement;  and,  in  "Richard  III.,"  Miss  Maggie 
was  cast  for  the  part  of  Edward,  the  young  Prince  of 
Wales.  The  curtain  rose  on  the  third  act  to  a  fanfare 
of  trumpets,  and  the  prince  was  discovered  awaiting 
the  homage  of  the  Lord  Mayor  of  London.  The  fear- 
ful outburst  of  brazen  music  was  too  much  for  royal 
dignity.  It  had  been  omitted  at  rehearsal,  and  now 
struck  terror  to  the  heart  of  the  youthful  player,  who 
had  never  before  heard  such  dire  sounds.  With  a 
frightened  exclamation  that  she  wanted  to  "  go  home," 
the  thoroughly  demoralized  little  actress  bolted  for  the 
wings.  It  required  the  united  force  and  persuasion  of 
the  Duke  of  Gloucester,  the  Lord  Mayor,  and  the 
whole  corporation,  to  bring  the  recalcitrant  prince  back 
again  ;  but  the  audience  was  already  in  roars  of  laugh- 
ter, and  the  curtain  was  rung  down  amid  confusion. 

This  little  contretemps  failed  to  dampen  the  young 
actress's  ardor;  and  not  long  after,  during  Mr.  Eddy's 
same  engagement,  she  received  her  first  recall  before 
the  curtain,  after  playing  in  "The  Lost  Child."  This 
incident,  and  another  which  occurred  later  in  the  season 
while  she  was  playing  Oliver  Twist,  doubtless  marked 
the  proudest  moments  of  her  life.  Manager  Hamblin, 
after  witnessing  the  latter  performance  from  his  box, 
announced  to  Mrs.  Mitchell  that  her  daughter's  salary 
should  henceforth  be  increased  to  six  dollars  a  week. 
It  is  doubtful  if  in  after  years,  when  Miss  Mitchell's 


MAGGIE    MITCHELL.  3I3 

efforts  won  for  her  more  than  a  thousand  times  as 
many  dollars  weekly,  she  experienced  a  tithe  of  the 
satisfaction  and  happiness  this  first  modest  increase  of 
salary  afforded.  Some  slight  on  the  part  of  the  man- 
agement led  Mrs.  Mitchell  to  withdraw  her  daughter 
from  Mr.  Hamblin's  Company  ;  and  the  now  popular 
coin^dienne  played  in  Baltimore,  under  Manager  Ar- 
nold, and  elsewhere.  About  this  time  Mr.  Moore 
took  a  company  over  to  Newark  for  a  night  or  two ; 
and  we  find  Miss  Mitchell  playing  Claude  Melnottc, 
Richard,  and  Young  Norval,  in  an  act  each  of  "  The 
Lady  of  Lyons,"  "  Richard  III.,"  and  "  Douglas."  In 
1853  she  joined  Mr.  James  Hall  Robinson's  Company 
when  that  gentleman  opened  a  theatre  on  the  Bowery, 
and  enacted  Evelyn  Wilson  in  the  drama  of  the  same 
name,  which  had  a  run  of  several  weeks.  Although 
Miss  Mitchell's  impersonation  created  a  strong  impres- 
sion, Mr.  Robinson's  enterprise  in  the  end  turned  out 
badly  ;  and  the  company  was  taken  to  Boston,  where, 
on  Sept.  5,  1853,  at  Robinson's  ICagle  Theatre,  as  the 
rejuvenated  American  Theatre  in  Sudbury  Street  was 
called.  Miss  Mitchell  appeared  in  the  same  play. 

Cleveland  was  next  favored  with  Mi.ss  Mitchell's 
presence,  and  as  the  soubrettc  of  Man^iger  Nichols's 
Company  she  played  in  a  round  of  comediettas  and  pro- 
tean pieces  with  great  success.  There  was,  indeed,  a 
Maggie  Mitchell  craze  ;  and  the  young  men  of  the  town 
took  to  wearing  *'  Maggie  Mitchell  scarfs,"  hats,  and 
the  like.  Here  it  was,  too,  that  she  met  the  venerable 
English  actor,  John  G.  Cartlitch,  then  a  white-haired 
old  man  and  Manager  Nichols's  stage-director.  Some 
years  later  tiie  generous-hearted  actress  fouml  the  oUl 
man   in   Philadelphia  reduced  to  the   lowest  depths  of 


314        FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

poverty,  and  henceforth  supported  him.  When  the 
grateful  recipient  of  her  bounty  died  he  left  her  his 
most  precious  possessions,  —  some  little  souvenirs  of 
his  dead  wife  and  of  his  early  triumphs  on  the  English 
boards.  The  letters  of  sympathy  Miss  Mitchell  had 
written  to  him  were  by  his  direction  placed  with  him 
in  the  grave. 

Miss  Mitchell's  first  starring  engagement  followed 
her  Cleveland  season,  and  this  was  played  at  Pitts- 
burg under  James  Foster's  management.  Her  reper- 
tory at  this  time  included  such  parts  as  Harry  Halcyon 
in  "A  Middy  Ashore,"  Margery  in  "A  Rough  Dia- 
mond," Gertrude  in  "  The  Loan  of  a  Lover,"  Paul  in 
Buckstone's  "  l*et  of  the  Petticoats,"  Bob  Nettles  in 
"To  Parents  and  Guardians,"  The  Countess  in  James 
Pilgrim's  "  Wild  Irish  Girl,"  and  Katty  O'Sheal  in 
Pilgrim's  farce  of  the  same  name.  The  protean  piece 
entitled  **The  P'our  Sisters,"  "An  Object  of  Interest," 
"A  Husband  at  Sight,"  "The  Daughter  of  the  Regi- 
ment," "  Satan  in  Paris,"  and  a  farce  written  for  her 
by  Pilgrim  and  called  "  Our  Maggie,"  were  also  on  the 
list.  For  several  years  she  continued  to  star  through 
the  country  in  pieces  of  this  character  with  increasing 
success;  and  it  was  not  until  1861  that  "  P'anchon  the 
Cricket,"  the  play  with  which  her  name  became  so 
inseparably  connected,  was  produced.  Its  first  repre- 
sentation was  given  at  the  St.  Charles  Theatre,  New 
Orleans,  then  under  the  management  of  Ben  De  Bar ; 
and  the  original  cast  included  Charles  Pope  as  Landry 
Barbeaud,  Alvin  Read  as  Didier,  R.  F.  McClannin  as 
Father  Barbeaud,  and  Mrs.  Hind  as  Old  Fadet. 

The  piece  is  a  dramatization  of  George  Sand's  story 
"  La  Petite  Fadette  ;  "  but  strangely  enough  it  reached 


MAGGIE    MITCHELL.  315 

the  American  stage  in  a  roundabout  way,  having  been 
translated  by  Mr.  August  VValdauer,  Mr.  De  Bar's 
orchestral  leader,  from  a  play  already  very  popular  on 
the  German  stage.  So  little  faith  had  both  the  man- 
agement and  Miss  Mitchell  in  "  Fanchon,"  that  two 
other  pieces  —  "The  Maid  of  the  Milking-Pail"  and 
"  The  Bonnie  Fishwife  "  —  were  put  up  for  the  same 
night.  The  new  play  was,  however,  a  success  from  the 
start,  on  account  of  the  childlike  freshness  and  vivacity 
of  Miss  Mitchell's  acting.  Many  changes  were  made 
from  the  original,  and  many  new  features  were  intro- 
duced. The  weird,  elfish  shadow  dance,  for  example, 
was  wholly  Miss  Mitchell's  creation,  although  some- 
thing similar  had  been  seen  in  Meyerbeer's  opera  of 
"  Dinorah."  The  pretty  maypole  dance  was  another 
interpolation.  From  New  Orleans  Miss  Mitchell  took 
the  play  to  Montgomery,  where  she  was  already  a 
favorite ;  but  the  breaking  out  of  the  war  caused  her 
to  abandon  a  further  Southern  tour,  and  she  returned 
North.  On  the  3d  of  June,  1861,  she  began  an  en- 
gagement at  the  Boston  Museum  ;  and  a  week  later 
(June  10)  "  Fanchon  "  was  produced  with  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  casts  it  ever  had, — W.  II.  Whalley 
playing  I^ndry  ;  William  Warren,  Father  Barbeaud  ; 
John  Wilson,  Didier ;  Mrs.  Vincent,  Mother  Barbeaud; 
Miss  Mitchell's  elder  si.ster  Mary  (now  Mrs.  Albaugh), 
Old  Fadet ;  and  Miss  Jennie  Anderson,  Madelon.  It 
was  later,  however,  at  the  Howard  Athenaeum,  that 
the  play  made  its  great  Boston  hit  ;  and  later  still,  at 
the  Boston  Theatre,  it  filled  the  great  auditorium  to 
overflowing  in  a  succession  of  annual  engagements. 
In  New  York  Mrs.  Mitchell  hired  the  New  Olympic, 
formerly    Laura   Keene's    Theatre,   for  her  daughter's 


3l6         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

first  appearance  as  Fanchon  in  that  city  ;  and  with  the 
aid  of  a  strong  company,  which  included  James  W. 
Collier,  "Dolly"  (A.  H.)  Davenport,  and  J.  H.  Stod- 
dart,  the  play  had  a  brilliant  run  of  six  weeks. 

While  "  Fanchon  "  was  being  played  at  the  Boston 
Theatre  in  one  of  Miss  Mitchell's  annual  engagements 
at  that  house,  it  was  witnessed  by  the  distinguished 
German  tragedian,  Bogumil-Dawison,  who,  although  un- 
familiar with  the  English  tongue,  was  enabled  to  follow 
the  action  closely  through  his  knowledge  of  the  Ger- 
man original.  So  greatly  delighted  was  he  with  Miss 
Mitchell's  impersonation,  that  he  made  his  way  to  the 
stage  after  the  performance,  and  offered  to  take  the 
actress  and  the  entire  company  to  Germany  for  a  pro- 
tracted engagement.  Charlotte  Cushman,  too,  ear- 
nestly advised  the  actress  to  play  Fanchon  abroad,  but 
the  counsel  was  never  heeded.  The  German  actress 
who  had  played  Fanchon  so  successfully  in  Europe 
contemplated  an  American  tour ;  but  Dawison  per- 
suaded her  to  give  it  up,  and  she  afterward  wrote  a 
graceful  tribute  to  the  American  actress  who  had  dis- 
tinguished herself  in  the  part. 

The  very  marked  success  of  "  Fanchon  "  led  authors 
and  adapters  to  send  scores  of  pieces  to  Miss  Mitchell 
for  acceptance,  but  unfortunately  most  of  the  writers 
sought  to  create  another  Cricket.  A  further  result  of 
her  well-earned  triumph  was  that  the  stage  soon  saw 
hosts  of  imitators,  a  stolen  copy  of  a  prompt-book 
opening  the  way  for  reproductions  of  the  play.  While 
several  really  talented  comediennes  essayed  the  role, 
none  ever  made  an  impression  on  the  public  which  in 
the  slightest  degree  tended  to  dim  the  lustre  of  the 
American  oricrinal. 


MAGGIE    MITCHELL.  317 

In  later  years  Miss  Mitchell  played  other  characters, 
winning  a  series  of  brilliant  stage  triumphs  ;  but  none 
of  them  came  fully  up  to  the  standard  of  "  Fanchon," 
which  remained  as  great  a  favorite  as  ever.  Among 
her  other  pieces  have  been  "  The  Pearl  of  Savoy  "  and 
"  Little  Barefoot,"  both  of  which  were  first  played  by 
her  in  Boston.  The  latter  was  a  translation  by  Mr. 
Waldauer  from  the  German.  "  Lorle,"  also  from  the 
German,  was  first  translated  by  Mr.  J.  Rosewald,  an- 
other orchestral  leader,  and  afterwards  rewritten  by 
Mr.  Fred  Maeder.  "  Mignon  "  was  an  adaptation  by 
Mr.  George  B.  Runnion  of  Chicago. 

"Jane  Eyre,"  which  may  perhaps  be  accounted  Miss 
Mitchell's  next  most  successful  essay  after  "Fanchon," 
was  first  brought  out  by  her  at  McVicker's  Theatre, 
Chicago.  A  play  under  a  different  title,  and  claimed 
to  be  original,  had  been  submitted  to  her  by  the  late 
Clifton  W.  Tayleure.  The  demands  of  a  busy  season 
with  much  travelling  from  city  to  city  had  prevented 
her  from  giving  the  manuscript  more  than  a  cursory 
examination,  and  she  reached  Chicago  without  hav- 
ing fully  informed  herself  regarding  its  merits.  Mr. 
McVicker  had  promised  the  public  that  the  star  should 
appear  in  a  new  part  in  the  course  of  her  engagement, 
and  the  difficulty  was  to  find  something  to  fill  the  bill. 
An  untried  piece  of  some  sort  which  had  been  sent  to 
the  actress  was  talked  of;  but  upon  examination  Mr. 
McVicker  declared  it  to  be  unsuited  to  her,  and  it  was 
laid  aside.  With  many  misgivings  Mr.  Tayleure's 
manuscript  was  fished  out,  and  it  was  not  long  before 
the  veteran  actor  and  manager  discovered  the  plot 
and  incidents  to  be  those  of  "  Jane  Kyre."  An  adap- 
tation of  Charlotte  Bronte's  story  had  already   found 


3l8         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

favor  in  New  York;  and  Miss  Mitchell  had  made  over- 
tures towards  securing  a  copy,  not  dreaming  even  that 
she  had  at  the  same  time  a  version  of  the  piece  in 
her  possession.  No  sooner  had  Mr.  McVicker  decided 
to  produce  Mr.  Tayleure's  dramatization,  than  Miss 
Mitchell  set  about  studying  the  character  in  the  most 
practical  way,  not  merely  by  conning  her  lines  from 
the  manuscript,  but  by  reading  the  novel  itself,  and 
thus  gaining  a  fuller  insight  into  the  author's  creation. 
The  play  was  a  signal  success  under  its  proper  title, 
and  for  many  seasons  "  Jane  Eyre  "  remained  a  prime 
favorite  with  the  public  of  all  the  great  cities  from 
Boston  to  San  Francisco.  In  the  former  city,  the  poet 
Longfellow,  who  was  a  great  admirer  of  Miss  Mitchell's 
acting,  witnessed  the  impersonation,  and  earnestly 
advised  the  actress  to  take  the  play  to  England.  In 
later  years,  when  the  Bronte  memorial  was  established, 
English  friends  of  the  gifted  writer  wrote  to  Miss 
Mitchell  in  token  of  acknowledgment  of  her  powerful 
portrayal  of  Jane  Eyre. 

One  of  the  many  plays  written  for  Miss  Mitchell  was 
entitled  "  Marie,"  and  its  author  was  the  Hon.  John  D. 
Long.  While  the  piece  showed  the  polished  diction 
of  the  scholarly  writer,  it  had  not  the  elements  calcu- 
lated to  win  popularity.  Its  first  and  only  representa- 
tions were  given  at  the  lioston  Theatre,  where  also 
a  new  fifth  act  of  "  Fanchon,"  from  the  pen  of  the 
gifted  clergyman,  the  late  Rev.  John  Weiss,  was  pro- 
duced with  no  better  results.  The  reverend  gentleman 
sought  to  make  the  moral  of  the  play  all  the  more  im- 
pressive by  bringing  the  little  heroine  to  her  grand- 
mother's grave  ;  but  while  the  scene  was  made  touching, 
it  gave  the  play  an  ending  that  was  much  too  sombre. 


MAGGIE    MITCHELL.  319 

While  one  of  the  ex-governors  of  Massachusetts,  as  al- 
ready mentioned,  sought  to  contribute  to  Miss  Mitchell's 
stage  popularity,  another  honored  chief  executive  of 
the  Old  Bay  State,  the  Hon.  Frederic  T.  Green- 
halgc,  was  able  to  claim  near  relationship  to  the  favorite 
actress,  being  a  cousin.  Among  the  happy  incidents 
of  Miss  Mitchell's  career,  well  remembered  by  many 
theatre-goers,  were  her  essays  of  Parthenia  in  "  Ingo- 
mar,"  and  Pauline  in  "The  Lady  of  Lyons,"  on  benefit 
occasions. 

Since  her  withdrawal  from  the  stage.  Miss  Mitchell, 
or  Mrs.  Abbott  as  she  is  known  in  domestic  life,  has 
resided  at  her  beautiful  summer  home  in  Elberon, 
NJ.,  or  at  her  elegant  New  York  abode,  in  the  enjoy- 
ment of  the  abundant  fruits  of  her  successful  jirofes- 
sional  career.  Her  husband,  formerly  a  well-known 
actor  and  manager,  is  engaged  in  mercantile  pursuits. 
An  accomplished  young  daughter  resides  with  her,  and 
a  son  is  a  rising  young  merchant  in  Boston.  These 
arc  children  by  a  former  marriage. 

If  we  examine  Miss  Mitchell's  stage  art  to  discover 
the  secret  of  her  really  wonderful  success,  we  readily 
find  that  naturalness  and  a  seeming  absence  of  art  are 
its  essential  qualities.  Favored  by  nature  with  a  youth- 
ful presence,  which  aided  her,  even  in  her  latest  ap- 
jiearances  before  the  public,  in  rendering  her  child 
heroines  peculiarly  attractive,  she  added  to  such  native 
attributes  the  full  measure  of  youthful  si)irits  and  ani- 
mation. Her  portrayals  were  uniciue.  and  yet  nothing 
more  than  the  holding  of  the  mirror  before  n.iturt-'s 
self.  She  had  the  rare  faculty  of  juinting  the  pictiMc 
f)f  maidenly  purity  and  nobility  of  soul  most  deftly  ; 
and  her  audience  laughed  when  she  laughed,  and  wept 


320         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

when  she  wept.  Not  infrequently  the  smiles  shone 
through  tears,  so  closely  and  truthfully  were  the  vary- 
ing moods  of  Fanchon's  nature  contrasted.  Her  vivid 
portrayal  of  childhood's  sorrows  and  joys,  of  its  hit- 
ter trials  and  noble  triumphs,  was  the  very  perfection 
of  dramatic  art,  and  yet  something  beyond  the  mere 
achievements  of  the  clever  actress.  It  was  the  art 
which  made  a  pure  and  ennobling  stage  creation  all  the 
more  impressive  by  reason  of  the  soul  behind  it  all. 
Alas!  the  characters  and  the  plays  which  served  to 
make  Maggie  Mitchell  so  great  a  favorite  with  fathers 
and  mothers,  and  so  much  beloved  by  every  child,  are 
no  longer  in  fashion.  Such  things  are  too  tame  for 
the  present  day,  since  the  rising  generation  of  play- 
goers crave  more  highly  seasoned  food.  Good  actors 
there  are,  and  always  will  be  ;  but  there  can  never 
be  one  who  will  e.xert  a  purer  and  better  influence 
upon  the  American  stage  than  the  genial  and  winsome 
comedienne  whose  genius  these  few  pages  seek  to 
commemorate. 


LOTTA  CRABTREE. 


LOTTA   CRABTREE. 

By  Deshler  Welch. 


John  Brougham's  well-known  expression  that  Lotta 
was  a  dramatic  cocktail  smacked  of  the  language  of  a 
hon  vivant  more  than  it  did  of  a  man  whose  brains,  on 
this  occasion,  should  have  been  somewhat  separable 
from  the  workings  of  his  stomach.  It  sounded  bright, 
but  it  was  as  insidious  as  the  drink  itself. 

In  all  my  recollections  of  the  stage,  my  fondest 
hold  up  Lotta.  She  filled  my  boyish  thoughts  with  a 
healthy  delight  and  most  extraordinary  sentiment.  I 
could  not  imagine,  for  instance,  that  Lotta,  as  she  ap- 
peared in  "The  Firefly  "  or  "  Little  Nell,"  could  eat  a 
buckwheat  cake  in  a  commonplace  way.  Angel  food, 
or  bonbons  anrl  rose  leaves,  would  have  been  all  right. 
I  worshipped  her  at  the  footlight  shrine  just  as  many 
other  young  fellows  did  ;  and  it  was  an  admiration  very 
different  from  that  declared  nowadays  by  jiasty  men 
who  wait  at  stage  entrances  in  the  hopes  of  a  flirtation 
with  some  young  farce-comedy  woman,  whose  vulgar 
antics  arc  as  far  removed  from  the  childish  romps  of 
Lotta  as  the  cabbage-flower  differs  from  the  violet. 
She  was  a  remarkable  picture  then  of  mischievous 
femininity.  She  simply  seemed  to  be  having  a  grand 
good  time,  without  the  least  suggestion  of  those  incar- 

32« 


nate  foibles  which  the  modern-day  stage  has  produced, 
with  so  much  alluring  effect,  in  its  exhibition  of  deplo- 
rable impudence. 

It  is  not  very  many  years  ago  that  a  plain  poster 
with  the  simple  announcement,  "  Lotta,"  was  electrical 
in  its  effect  on  the  theatre-going  public  in  any  play- 
house throughout  the  country.  These  people  did  not 
discuss  her  performances  critically,  from  the  histrionic 
point  of  view,  any  more  than  a  mother  would  expect 
her  child  in  frocks  to  have  all  the  accomplishments  of 
a  cotillion  dancer,  or  a  man  would  expect  to  compare 
the  funny  joyousness  of  an  affectionate  St.  Bernard 
pup  to  the  grace  of  the  grown  greyhound.  Lotta's 
naturalness  got  into  your  heart  somehow,  and  she 
seemed  as  gentle  and  sweet  and  innocent  as  the  bound- 
ing pink-eyed  bunny  in  the  fragrant  caress  of  a  clover- 
bed. 

The  criticaster  said,  however,  that  she  could  not  act; 
that  it  was  n't  art,  that  she  simply  was  herself.  Well, 
that  was  just  what  we  wanted.  If  she  had  been  Sarah 
Bernhardt  or  Parepa  Rosa,  she  would  have  been  differ- 
ent. Yet  there  is  an  opinion  lurking  somewhere  among 
intelligent  men  that  there  is  considerable  art  in  being 
natural  on  the  stage,  particularly  when  that  natural- 
ness is  kept  up  to  the  bubbling  point,  such  as  Lotta's. 
Her  Marchioness  and  Nitouche  were  each  accentuated 
by  different  degrees  of  art.  Had  she  dropped  into  a 
New  York  theatre  as  a  Parisian  actress,  her  Nitouche 
would  have  captured  the  town.  But  Theo  had  pre- 
viously performed  it  here ;  and  the  little  American 
woman  did  not  have  the  pull  with  that  superficial  pub- 
lic that  talked  about  graceful  French  cJiic,  and  got  it 
mixed  up  with  the  suggestive  contortion  of  a  cafe  chan- 


LOTTA    CRABTREE.  323 

tant.  Of  the  two  impersonations,  Lotta's  Nitouche 
seemed  to  me  to  be  the  more  consistent  and  natural, 
and  certainly  more  magnetic  in  its  touch  upon  the 
strings  of  the  heart.  It  had  its  production  at  the 
Grand  Opera  House,  New  York,  March  29,   1886. 

Lotta's  stage  career  has  been  a  remarkable  one.  She 
began  it  when  she  was  a  very  little  girl.  She  was  born 
in  New  York  City  in  1847,  and  when  she  was  ten  years 
old  played  the  part  of  Gertrude  in  a  performance  of 
"  Loan  of  a  Lover,"  in  San  Francisco.  She  instantly 
attracted  attention,  and  was  regarded  as  a  wonderful 
child.  In  i860  she  returned  East,  and  made  a  hit  in 
New  York  in  a  farce  written  for  her  by  Charles  Gaylor, 
called  "  Four  to  One."  This  was  followed  by  a  long 
engagement  at  Wallack's  Theatre  at  Thirteenth  Street 
and  Broadway,  in  John  Brougham's  dramatization  of 
"The  Old  Curiosity  Shop,"  and  called  "Little  Nell 
and  the  Marchioness."  Her  acting  in  both  parts  de- 
lighted many  peo])le.  Subsequently  she  established 
herself  as  a  great  favorite  throughout  the  country  in 
such  plays  as  "The  Little  Detective,"  "The  Firefly," 
"Heartsease,"  "Zip,"  and  "Musette,"  all  of  which 
were  either  written  or  adapted  to  suit  her  original 
ways.  The  last  two  plays  were  by  I'Vederick  Mars- 
den,  and  she  was  chiefly  successful  in  them. 

"The  Little  Detective"  always  remained  in  Lotta's 
ri'pertoire,  and  was  an  excellent  medium  to  display  her 
versatilitv.  She  acted  half  a  dozen  different  characters 
in  this  with  fascinating  and  charming  grace.  Nothing 
could  have  been  funnier  than  her  apparent  discomfiture 
when  as  a  hoyden  she  was  put  into  long  skirts  and 
taught  to  assume  the  airs  and  affectations  of  a  lady. 
Most  of  her  plays  were  written  to  show  transition  from 


324        FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF    TO-DAY 

low  to  high  life;  and  generally  the  first  comedian  was 
the  lover  who  stuck  to  the  heroine,  as  she  stuck  to  him, 
through  thick  and  thin.  The  leading  man  was  always 
the  villain  of  the  piece.  But  this  accomplished  the  pur- 
pose of  the  author,  by  allowing  Lotta  to  introduce  her 
"  specialties,"  her  songs  and  dances.  In  these  she  was 
unexcelled.  Then  "  skirt  dancers"  were  unknown  as  a 
distinct  attraction  in  art.  Lotta  could  kick  as  high  as 
her  head,  and  play  the  banjo  ;  and  she  did  these  things 
as  she  did  everything  else,  with  a  most  charming  na- 
ivete. She  seemed  to  act  with  the  same  spirit  of  enjoy- 
ment that  her  audiences  manifested,  and  she  would  tire 
out  her  little  body  by  answers  to  encore  after  encore. 

I  remember  on  one  occasion,  in  the  old  l^uffalo  Acad- 
emy of  Music,  when  the  late  Benjamin  G.  Rogers  was 
the  leading  comedian,  that,  in  answer  to  thunderous 
acclamations  of  pleasure,  she  repeated  the  postilion's 
song  from  the  opera  of  "  Le  Postilion  "  no  less  than 
eight  times.  Finally,  panting  for  breath,  she  said  very 
audibly :  "  What  do  you  say,  Ben  ;  shall  we  sing  it 
again  .'' "  It  was  during  another  engagement  later 
on,  in  Buffalo,  in  playing  a  melodrama  called  "Hearts- 
ease," that  Lotta  mot  with  a  severe  fall  through  a  trap- 
door, from  which,  I  have  understood,  she  never  fully 
recovered. 

On  another  occasion,  at  Wallack's  Theatre,  while 
playing  the  banjo,  a  cat  darted  across  the  stage.  With 
almost  childish  wonderment,  Lotta  cried  out  :  "  Why, 
look  at  that  big  cat  !  "  and  then,  as  if  suddenly  remem- 
bering where  she  was,  went  on  strumming,  to  the 
vociferous  delight  of  the  audience,  which  indication 
seemed  to  amaze  her  all  the  more.  It  was  in  such 
glee  and  pleasure  that  Lotta  won  her  way.     Her  petite- 


LOTTA   CRABTREE.  325 

ness  and  her  daintiness,  the  sweetness  of  her  face,  and 
her  curly  red  ringlets,  were  never  successfully  put  in 
photograph  or  on  canvas.  To  have  caught  the  dimples, 
or  the  expression  of  her  upper  lip,  —  vvhy,  it  would 
have  been  just  as  easy  to  have  stopped  the  sunbeam 
darting  aslant  the  lilac  trembling  in  the  summer's 
breeze ! 

Lotta  was  always  a  great  favorite  behind  the  scenes 
in  all  theatres,  treating  the  supporting  company  with 
much  consideration  and  friendliness  ;  and  it  was  in  the 
halcyon  period  of  her  success  that  we  had  those  good 
days  for  dramatic  art,  when  nearly  every  city  had  its 
stock  company.  In  my  records  I  find  that  some 
notable  casts  were  obtained  for  her  pieces.  At  the 
Boston  Theatre,  in  September,  1868,  in  the  performance 
of  "  Little  Nell  and  the  Marchioness,"  James  Lewis 
played  Dick  Swiveller.  In  October  of  the  same  year, 
in  "Firefly,"  Charles  R.  Thorne,  Jr.,  played  Harold 
Cecil ;  James  Lewis,  Rakes  ;  anil  H.  A.  Weaver,  Colo- 
nel Chatumvay,  In  May,  1870,  at  the  same  theatre, 
in  "  The  Little  Detective,"  H.  L.  Murdoch  played  Pha- 
bus  Rockaway,  and  Dan  Maguinnis  played  Stuyvesant. 
The  following  October,  in  "  Little  Nell,"  C.  Leslie 
Allen  played  Old  Trent  ;  Murdoch  played  Dick  ; 
Weaver,  Quilp ;  and  Mrs.  Charles  Poole  played  Mrs. 
Parley. 

In  November  of  that  year,  Lotta  produced  "The 
Ticket-of-Leave  Man,"  acting  the  part  of  Sam  Wil- 
loughby.  Neil  Warner  was  Bob  Brierly,  Louis  Aldrich 
was  Hawkshaw,  Weaver  was  James  Dalton,  Allen  was 
Melton  Moss,  Mrs.  Poole  was  Mrs.  Wilk)Ughby,  and 
Rachel  Noah  was  May. 

With  the  change  of    the  stock-company  system    by 


326        FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

the  encroaching  "  combinations,"  Lotta  was  compelled 
to  travel  with  her  own  company.  She  has  had,  in  their 
turn,  as  supporting  comedian,  E.  A.  Locke,  who  played 
with  her  for  several  seasons,  Fred  R.  Wren,  John 
Howson,  and  C.  II.  Bradshaw. 

Lotta's  last  season  was  in  1S91.  She  introduced 
two  new  plays,  —  "  Pawn  Ticket  210,"  and  "  Ina."  In 
speaking  of  her  appearance  at  that  time  it  was  written: 
"  This  rare  genius  has  lost  no  whit  of  her  magnetic 
power  to  please,  nor  does  she  hang  out  on  the  outer 
walls  any  banner  proclaiming  the  flight  of  years.  She 
looks  as  young,  acts  as  vivaciously,  and  cuts  up  as  cutely 
as  she  did  twenty  years  ago.  This  is  Lotta's  tribute  to 
good  sense  and  wise  living — in  freshness,  personal 
charm,  and  eternal  youth,  Lotta  is  the  eighth  wonder 
of  the  world  !  " 

It  has  been  rightly  said  of  Lotta  that  she  was  the 
creator  and  sole  representative  of  a  school  that  was  as 
well  defined  and  as  well  understood  as  was  the  school 
of  the  Kembles  in  their  day  ;  as  the  school  of  Garrick 
and  Kean  (who  punctured  inflated  Kembleism),  when 
they  set  up  nature  as  the  goddess  of  their  idolatry. 
The  charm  of  Lotta's  acting  penetrated  every  heart ; 
she  defied  convention ;  she  was  not  measurable  by  rule 
or  line.  The  secret  of  her  charm  was  as  hidden  as  the 
scent  of  the  rose  ;  it  was  there  —  somewhere ;  those 
iconoclasts  who  sought  to  find  it  were  like  the  Persian 
poet  in  his  hunt  for  tlie  hereafter  —  "they  evermore 
came  out  by  the  door  wherein  they  went."  Lotta 
was  incomparable  and  inimitable.  As  for  her  imitators 
they  have,  alas,  been  legion,  but  they  were  only  the 
sickly  hue  of  the  waxen  image. 

Lotta  maintained  her  youthful  appearance  and  vigor 


LOTTA    CRABTREE.  327 

to  a  wonderful  extent  up  to  the  time  of  her  retirement. 
She  has  remained  apparently  very  happy  in  celibacy, 
under  the  chaperonage  of  a  devoted  mother,  who  has 
been  her  constant  companion  and  business  manager. 
They  have  made  good  investments,  and  to-day  Lotta 
is  considered  the  wealthiest  woman  on  the  stage.  She 
owns  a  great  deal  of  property  in  the  West,  several 
buildings  in  Boston,  including  the  Park  Theatre,  and 
has  a  most  charming  home  on  the  shores  of  Lake 
Hopatcong,  where  she  lives  most  of  the  time.  There 
is  n't  a  bird  more  free  than  she  is,  none  that  sings  with 
more  gladness  than  she  does  ;  and  the  acorn  that  falls 
m  her  path,  or  the  first  woodland  flower  that  she  sees, 
are  simply  little  bits  of  the  ever-recurring  changes  of 
nature  that  are  just  as  fresh  to  her  now  as  at  any  time 
in  her  busy  life. 


MINNIE   MADDERN-FISKE. 

By  MiLUKEu  Aldrich. 


Whenever  the  very  most  has  been  made,  for  theat- 
rical purposes,  of  a  woman's  character,  temperament, 
intellect,  it  has  in  the  most  cases  been  accomplished 
by  the  discreet  manipulation,  the  enthusiastic  encour- 
agement, the  practical  impetus,  of  a  second  person,  — 
one  who  can  stand  apart  and  see  a  woman  as  she  cannot 
see  herself;  one  who  has  the  head  to  recognize  her 
possibilities,  and  the  artistic  instinct  to  make  the  most 
of  them.  Ability  being  granted,  the  first  step  toward 
a  great  career  is  a  start  in  the  right  direction. 

It  is  notorious  that  women  do  not  know  themselves, 
and  that  charge  against  the  sex  has  had  innumerable 
proofs  in  the  history  of  women  on  the  stage.  To  that 
undoubted  truth  must  be  traced  the  fact  that  Minnie 
Maddern  has  not  even  yet  achieved  the  success  to  which 
her  unquestioned  gifts  seem  to  entitle  her,  and  which 
many  a  woman  with  no  part  of  her  endowments  has 
won.  There  is  a  strange  and  inexplicable  incon- 
sistency between  the  claims  which  many  an  actor, 
manager,  and  reliable  critical  authority  make  for  her 
dramatic  equipment  in  the  way  of  temperament  and 
magnetism,  and  the  actual  result  of  a  career  which 
reached  from  her  babyhood  to  her  marriage  at  the  age 

328 


MINNIE  MAOO£RN   FISKE 


MINNIE    MADDERN-FISKE.  329 

of  twenty-five,  and  after  six  years  of  retirement  was 
taken  up  again  at  the  age  of  thirty-one.  The  result  of 
that  career  is  to  be  traced  directly  to  a  false  start,  and 
that  in  its  turn  to  the  fact  that  she  was  left  to  her  own 
mistaken  guidance ;  and  gifted  as  she  is,  she  knows 
absolutely  nothing  of  her  own  nature  and  its  great 
possibilities. 

Born  almost  on  the  stage  ;  familiar  with  its  routine 
from  the  time  that  she  learned  to  toddle ;  used  to  the 
footlights,  to  the  sound  of  her  own  voice  in  the  play- 
house, to  the  excitement  of  endeavor,  to  the  exhilara- 
tion of  applause,  when  but  three  years  old  ;  a  pet  with 
the  actors  of  the  days  when  the  drama  had  more  force 
if  less  polish  than  it  has  to-day ;  playing  the  entire 
round  of  juvenile  roles,  from  soubrettcs  and  boys  to 
young  heroines,  from  leaders  of  marches  to  victims  of 
local  melodramas,  from  Shakespeare's  lads  to  fairy  gods, 
in  the  days  before  long  runs  were  known,  or  the  one- 
part  actor  thought  of,  when  the  way  of  the  actor  was 
one  of  work,  and  was  neither  strewn  with  rose-leaves 
nor  walled  with  adulation  ;  starred  at  sixteen,  and  re- 
tired at  twenty-five,  having  run  the  entire  gamut  of 
stage  experiences  —  such  up  to  1890  was  the  history 
of  Minnie  Maddern.  Then  marriage  and  a  brief  re- 
tirement made  a  sharp  break  in  her  career. 

She  was  a  veritable  enfant  tie  la  balle. 

Her  maternal  grandmother  was  an  luiglish  girl  of 
fine  family,  who  thought  the  world  well  lost  for  love, 
and  married  a  music-master,  who  bore  the  name  which 
the  actress  kept  for  a  stage  name.  For  a  time  the 
young  couple  are  said  to  have  lived  happily  under  the 
offended  noses  of  the  wife's  nice-feeling  relatives  ;  but 
when  the  disinheriting  father  died,  and  realistically  cut 


2,^0        FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

them  off  with  the  traditional  shilling,  they  came  to 
America  to  seek  their  fortune. 

They  were  a  prolific  race;  and  ultimately,  with  their 
seven  children,  all  of  whom  were  musically  gifted,  they 
organized  an  orchestra,  and  made  tours.  The  family 
traditions  treasure  the  fact  that  when  just  in  her  teens 
Lizzie  Maddern,  one  of  the  most  gifted  of  the  children, 
and  the  mother  of  Minnie,  could  score  an  entire  opera 
for  the  orchestra. 

Lizzie  Maddern  was  afterwards  a  well-known  actress 
in  the  South  and  West.  She  became  the  wife  of 
Thomas  Davey,  the  pioneer  manager  of  the  Western 
circuit,  of  whom  his  daughter  laughingly  remarks, 
"  He  had  the  microscopic  eye  of  the  manager,  for  I 
am  sure  he  discovered  towns  in  the  West  the  very 
existence  of  which  had  never  been  suspected  by  any 
one  else."  He  was  a  small,  wiry  man,  whose  red  hair 
his  daughter  inherited,  and  much  of  whose  erratic  dis- 
position she  also  adds  to  the  histrionic  gifts  her  mother 
gave  her.  Stories  of  "Tom"  Davey  still  crop  up  in 
the  West.  Eastern  actors  find  the  chronicles  of  the 
stage  out  there  rich  with  them;  for  his  wit  equalled  his 
temper,  and  his  waywardness  and  eccentricity  were 
enormous. 

Minnie  Maddern  was  born  in  New  Orleans  in  one 
of  the  late  war  years.  Her  first  recollections  are  of 
the  theatre,  where  night  after  night,  when  but  two 
years  old,  she  slept  in  her  mother's  dressing-room, 
being  stowed  out  of  the  way  in  a  huge  dress  trunk, 
the  cover  to  which  was  raised  between  the  light  and 
the  sleeping  child.  The  nervous  little  girl  would  not 
remain  with  her  nurse  at  the  hotel.  Naturally  the 
inheritor   of    dramatic    gifts    did  not  stay  long  in  this 


MINNIE    MADDERN-FISKE.  33  I 

retirement.  She  sought  her  place  as  naturally  and  as 
persistently  as  water  seeks  its  level.  From  poking 
about  and  mussing  up  the  dressing-room,  from  going 
on  voyages  of  discovery  on  the  dressing-table,  and  dis- 
organizing the  make-up  box,  —  all  in  her  baby  attempts 
at  order,  —  she  was  graduated  to  the  stage,  as  being 
easier  to  care  for  there.  From  her  improvised  crib  she 
had  furtively  watched  her  pretty  mamma  making  quick 
changes ;  she  had  eyed  curiously  the  spangled  skirts, 
the  blond  wig,  the  blackened  eyebrows.  She  had 
breathed  the  fatal  odor  of  the  theatre.  To  return  her 
to  domestic  life  was  impossible.  She  had  drawn  deep 
into  her  lungs  that  ether  which  seems  poisonous  to 
those  not  born  to  it,  that  compound  of  dust,  gas,  paint, 
unventilated,  musty  space,  out  of  which  those  success- 
fully inoculated  never  seem  to  be  quite  alive.  So  the 
realm  behind  the  footlights  became  her  world,  its 
painted  canvas  her  nature,  its  "props"  her  playthings, 
—  they  were  the  real  things  of  life  to  her.  She  felt  its 
painted  trees  more  real  to  her  than  forests.  She  loved 
it  as  her  native  land  ;  and  though  she  has  voyaged 
wearily  out  of  it  in  search  of  change,  she  came  back 
to  it  again. 

If  it  were  possible  for  her  to  write  the  history  of  her 
early  days,  it  would  be  an  admirable  epitome  of  the  rise 
of  the  American  stage,  though  not  of  the  American 
actor.  Though  they  did  not  play  in  inn  yards  as  they 
did  in  the  days  of  Queen  Bess,  their  theatre  was  fre- 
quently the  dining-room  of  a  poor  inn  ;  their  stage  the 
tables  lashed  together.  Those  were  the  days  of  long 
n^pertoins,  before  scenery  was  more  than  a  detail,  and 
when  costumes  were  few  and  cheap.  Such  was  the 
state  of  the  West  when  Minnie  Maddern,  after  much 


clamoring,  was,  during  one  of  her  father's  tours, 
allowed  a  real  hearing.  All  that  she  now  remembers 
of  the  occasion  is  that  she  wore  a  Scotch  kilt  made  by 
her  mother,  and  sang  between  the  tragedy  and  comedy, 
as  was  the  custom,  a  piece  about  Jamie  coming  over 
the  meadow,  after  which  she  danced  the  Highland 
Fling. 

Her  first  legitimate  appearance  was  made  at  Little 
Rock,  Ark. ;  but  of  that  even  the  actress's  memory 
has  no  record  save  the  fact  and  the  part.  To  quote  her 
own  words,  "  I  cannot  even  remember  who  played 
Richard  to  my  Duke  of  York."  A  little  later,  however, 
she  repeated  that  performance  in  New  Orleans,  when 
she  was  in  the  company  supporting  the  Irish  tragedian 
Barry  Sullivan,  I  am  told  that  the  poor,  erratic,  iras- 
cible Sullivan  had  a  hard  time  with  her.  Though  little 
more  than  a  baby,  she  seemed  to  have  been  born  with 
the  actor's  bravado,  which,  no  matter  how  badly  things 
may  go  at  the  last  rehearsal,  is  always  certain  that  "  it 
will  be  all  right  at  night."  It  was  nearly  impossible 
to  get  her  to  learn  her  lines.  She  liked  acting,  but 
had  an  actor's  contempt  for  the  author.  One  evening 
she  was  cast  for  the  apparition  which  bears  the  tree 
in  the  caldron  scene  in  "  Macbeth,"  and  which,  bidding 
the  bold  Scot  "be  lion-mettled,"  assures  him  that 

"  until 
Great  Birnam  wood  to  high  Dunsinane  hill 
Shall  come  against  him," 

he  shall  never  be  vanquished.  A  funny  little  slip  of 
a  ghost  she  must  have  been  in  her  white  nightgown, 
with  her  bristling  red  top.  The  audience  certainly 
found  her  so.     Up  to  that   point   the  play  had   gone 


MINNIE    MADDERN-FISKE.  333 

well.  The  solemn  entrance  of  the  curious  little  appari- 
tion, who  paused  gravely  to  recover  her  breath  and 
her  balance,  was  greeted  by  the  hitherto  breathless 
audience  with  a  shout  of  laughter.  Nothing  discon- 
certed she  began  to  sputter,  "  Be  lion-mettled,  proud ; 
and  take  no  heed  where  perspirers  are."  A  shout  went 
up,  and  through  his  teeth  the  tragedian  hissed,  "  Take 
her  down  ;"  and  the  little  ghost  shot  out  of  sight,  much 
to  her  own  disgust. 

Only  infinite  coaxing  and  well-kept  promises  of 
"  lollipops  "  enabled  Sullivan  to  pull  her  through  that 
season  ;  but  he  did  it.  From  that  time  her  career  was 
an  active  one.  She  played  the  entire  round  of  juvenile 
parts  with  Sullivan,  —  Willie  Lee  in  Laura  Keene's 
production  of  "Hunted  Down;"  all  the  juvenile  rt^/^i- 
during  Lucille  Western's  last  Southern  tour ;  Little 
Fritz  in  Emmet's  original  production  of  "  Fritz,"  at 
Wallack's  Theatre  and  Niblo's,  New  York ;  Paul  in 
the  great  production  of  "The  Octoroon,"  Philadelphia; 
Franko  in  "Guy  Mannering,"  with  Mrs.  Waller;  Sibyl 
in  "A  Wolf  in  Sheep's  Clothing,"  with  Carlotta  Lc- 
clercq  ;  Mary  Morgan  in  "  Ten  Nights  in  a  Barroom," 
with  Yankee  Locke,  in  Boston ;  the  child  in  Oliver 
Doud  Byron's  scenic  production  of  "Across  the  Con 
tinent;"  Damon's  son  in  "  Damon  and  Pythias,"  with 
K.  L.  Davenport;  both  Heinrich  and  Minna  in  "Rip 
V^an  Winkle  ; "  Prince  Arthur  in  "  King  John,"  at 
Booth's  Theatre,  New  York,  with  John  McCullough, 
Junius  Booth,  and  Agnes  Booth  in  the  cast;  Adrienne 
in  "  Monsieur  Alphonse  ; "  the  boy's  part  in  "  liosom 
Friends;"  Alfred  in  the  first  road  production  of 
"Divorce;"  Georgie  in  "  I'rou-Frou,"  with  Mrs.  Scott- 
Siddons  during  her  first  American  tour;  the  child  in 


334         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OK    TO-DAV. 

"The  Chicago  Fire,"  produced  at  the  Olympic,  New 
York;  Hilda  in  Emmet's  "Karl  and  Hilda;"  Francois 
in  "Richelieu."  When  but  ten  years  old  she  played 
the  Sun  God  in  the  great  spectacle,  "The  Ice  Witch,  " 
which  David  Bidwell  produced  in  New  Orleans ;  and 
had  appeared  prominently  in  "Aladdin,"  "The  White 
Faun,"  and  other  scenic  pieces.  She  was  but  twelve 
years  old,  when,  owing  to  an  unexpected  vacancy  in 
the  company  with  which  she  was  travelling,  she  j^layed 
Louise  in  "The  Two  Orphans,"  and  Lucy  Fairweather 
in  "The  Streets  of  New  York."  She  often  "doubled" 
the  gamin  and  Peachblossom  in  "  Under  the  Gaslight." 
l^efore  she  was  fourteen  she  had  played  Marjorie  in 
"  The  Rough  Diamond,"  and  in  "  Tiie  Little  Rebel," 
led  many  marches,  of  which,  by  the  way,  she  is  almost 
as  proud  as  she  is  of  having  played  old  women's  parts 
with  success  at  the  age  of  fifteen. 

At  odd  times  she  went  to  school  in  Montreal,  New 
Orleans,  and  Louisville,  attended  the  Ursuline  Convent 
at  St.  Louis,  and  a  French  school  in  Cincinnati,  and 
wherever  the  company  stayed  any  length  of  time  she 
went  to  a  private  school.  Her  mother,  however,  was 
her  constant  teacher.  Her  last  part  before  she  started 
out  as  a  star  was  the  soubrette  part  in  "The  Mes- 
senger from  Jarvis  Centre  Section,"  in  support  of 
Macauley.  In  May,  1882,  she  made  her  debut  as  a 
star,  opening  at  the  Park  Theatre,  New  York  (since 
burned),  as  Chip  in  a  deplorably  bad  play,  written  by 
Charles  Callahan,  entitled  "  Fogg's  Ferry."  It  is  from 
the  winter  of  that  year  that  my  knowledge  of  Miss 
Madde.rn  dates.  It  was  the  week  before  Christmas, 
notoriously  the  very  worst  theatrical  week  in  the  sea- 
son, that  Minnie  Maddern  was  billed  to  appear  at  the 


MINNIE    MADDERN-FISKE.  335 

Park  Theatre  in  Boston.  A  few  persistent  theatre- 
goers might  have  remembered  the  child-actress  who 
had  a  few  years  before  appeared  in  "  Ten  Nights  in 
a  Barroom,"  but  evidently  they  did  not,  for  no  men- 
tion was  made  of  the  fact ;  so  it  was  quite  as  a  stranger 
that  the  actress  was  heralded  here.  No  mention  was 
made  of  her  professional  career ;  but  great  stress  was 
laid  on  the  fact  that  she  was  the  ward  of  the  New 
Orleans  Continental  Guard,  and  by  that  body  she  was 
commended  to  the  tender  mercies  of  the  Boston  militia. 

I  had  been  asked  by  a  member  of  the  local  body  to 
assist  him  in  keeping  his  word  to  a  brother  officer  in 
New  Orleans,  and  to  call  on  the  young  actress  ;  and, 
as  so  often  happens,  I  set  about  what  proved  to  be 
a  delightful  experience  in  a  most  indifferent  frame  of 
mind.  She  was  absolutely  unknown  to  me,  and  noth- 
ing that  had  been  done  to  advertise  her  had  attracted 
my  attention. 

It  was  twilight  on  a  very  cold  day  when  I  knocked  at 
her  room  at  Hotel  Vendome.  A  clear  voice  bade  me 
enter,  and  in  a  moment  I  had  forgotten  my  cold  drive. 
It  was  a  voice  which  I  can  never  forget,  and  which 
even  as  I  write  of  it  comes  back  to  my  ear  with  a 
strange,  delicious  insistence.  As  the  door  closetl  be- 
hind me,  there  rose  from  the  depths  of  a  large  chair, 
and  stood  between  me  antl  the  dim  light  from  the 
window,  a  slender,  childish  figure,  in  a  close-fitting 
dark  gown.  The  fading  light,  the  dark  dress,  threw 
into  greater  relief  the  pale  face  with  its  small  features 
and  deep  eyes,  above  and  around  which,  like  a  halo, 
was  a  wealth  of  curling  red  hair.  I  had  been  told  that 
she  was  young;  but  I  was  not  prepared  for  any  such 
unique   personality  as  hers,  anil   I   still   remember  the 


2,2,6        FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF    TO-DAY. 

sensation  of  the  surprise  she  was  to  me  as  a  most 
delightful  experience.  This  was  not  the  conventional 
young  actress  to  whom  I  had  been  accustomed,  this 
slight,  undeveloped  figure,  in  its  straight,  girlish  gown 
only  reaching  to  the  slender  ankles.  There  was  a 
pretty  assumption  of  dignity,  there  was  a  constant 
cropping  out  in  bearing,  in  speech,  in  humor,  and  in 
gestures  of  delicious,  inimitable,  unconcealable  youth, 
which  was  most  fetching,  and  which  had  something 
so  infinitely  touching  in  it. 

I  have  never  encountered  a  face  more  variable.  At 
one  moment  I  would  think  her  beautiful.  The  next 
instant  a  quick  turn  of  the  head  would  give  me  a  differ- 
ent view  of  the  face,  and  I  would  say  to  myself,  "  She 
is  plain  ;  "  then  she  would  speak,  and  that  beautiful 
musical  mezzo,  so  uncommon  to  American  ears,  —  and 
from  which  a  Boston  man  once  emotionally  declared 
"feeling  could  be  positively  wrung,  so  over  saturated 
was  it,"  —  would  touch  my  heart,  and  all  else  would 
be  forgotten.  Such  was  Minnie  Maddern  when  I  first 
met  her  on  her  eighteenth  birthday  ;  and  I  cannot 
see  that  the  years  have  changed  her  much,  though 
they  have  a  little  rounded  the  still  willowy  figure. 

I  felt  even  then  her  emotional  possibilities,  and  shall 
never  forget  my  disappointment  when  later  in  the 
week  I  witnessed  her  performance  in  "  Fogg's  Ferry." 
It  was  a  play  in  which  Lotta  or  Annie  Pixley  might 
have  appeared,  and  bad  enough  for  even  them  to  fail  in. 
Miss  Maddern  had  no  qualification  save  the  most  thor- 
ough training  to  make  a  play  of  that  sort  "go."  Her 
natural  instincts  were  too  true  to  allow  her  to  abandon 
herself  to  the  staginess  necessary  to  make  such  a  play 
a  success,  and  her  delicacy  and  charm  were  valueless 
in  the  part. 


MINNIE    MADDERN-FISKE.  337 

It  is  impossible  to  understand  how  the  fatal  error 
of  supposing  her  adapted  to  such  plays  was  made, 
unless  she  was  blinded  by  the  thought  of  Lotta's  hun- 
dreds of  thousands,  and  Maggie  Mitchell's  blocks  of 
real  estate — the  results  in  their  cases  of  that  very 
recognition  of  personality  and  limitations  which  was 
lacking  in  Miss  Maddern's,  and  which  condemned  a  girl 
who  should  have  developed  the  power  to  play  such  a 
Camille  as  the  American  stage  has  not  contributed 
yet,  to  doing  soubrctte  work  in  a  third-rate  play. 

At  that  time,  young  as  she  was,  she  had  been  three 
years  a  wife,  having  married  at  the  age  of  fifteen 
Legrand  White,  a  clever  xylophone  soloist  in  the 
orchestra  of  a  Western  theatre.  The  cause  and  result 
of  this  deplorable  marriage  have  no  place  here,  where 
the  fact  is  simply  set  down  as  history. 

In  1884  she  presented  at  the  new  Park  Theatre,  New 
York,  "Caprice,"  which  had  been  written  for  her  by 
Howard  P.  Taylor.  Though  by  no  means  a  strong 
play,  it  gave  her  an  opportunity  to  show  much  of  her 
natural  equipment.  The  rare  endowment  of  individual 
femininity  was  its  most  notable  characteristic.  The 
humor  of  her  smile  was  delicious.  The  pathos  of  her 
voice  heart-catching.  The  oddity  of  her  appearance 
amounted  to  originality.  She  had  a  peculiar  gift  of 
emotion,  uniting  tears  and  smiles  in  the  same  breath, 
which  was  more  pathetic  than  undiluted  grief,  and  more 
diverting  than  undiluted  laughter.  It  was  the  very 
rainbow  of  emotion,  promising  joy  while  it  spoke  of  sad- 
ness, ami  flaunting  s(jrrow  in  the  face  of  happiness.  It 
constantly  had  one  at  a  disadvantage  in  its  surprises. 

In  September,  1885,  Steele  Mackaye's  adaptation  of 
"Andrea,"  which  Sardou  wrote  for   ^gnes  l'2thel,  and 


33^        FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF    TO-DAV. 

in  which  she  made  her  great  success,  was  produced  at 
the  Lyceum  Theatre,  New  York,  with  Miss  Maddern 
in  the  leading  part.  It  bore  the  unmelodious,  preju- 
dicially cheap  title  "  In  Spite  of  All."  She  was  supported 
by  a  strong  company,  including  Richard  Mansfield,  and 
the  play  ran  for  nearly  a  season.  While  confessing  all 
the  crudities  which  severe  critics  found  in  her  delinea- 
tion of  this  part,  the  third  act  was  a  great  performance. 
It  is  a  scene  in  which  a  young  wife,  having  seen  with 
her  own  eyes  her  husband  in  the  dressing-room  of  a 
popular  actress,  having  with  her  own  ears  heard  him 
plan  a  sort  of  elopement,  has  returned  to  her  home  to 
await  his  arrival  preparatory  to  quitting  her  and  the 
country  for  a  woman  who  cares  only  for  his  admiration. 
The  wife  is  young,  but  she  is  brave  ;  and  she  determines 
to  make  a  tour  dc  force  for  the  sake  of  keeping  beside 
her  the  man  whom  she  adores,  in  spite  of  his  infidelity, 
the  man  without  whom  she  cannot  live,  and  whom  she 
is  determined  to  save  from  himself  until  she  can  rouse 
his  moral  sense.  I  know  no  actress — and  sweeping 
as  the  statement  is  I  do  not  wish  to  qualify  it  —  who 
could  have  given  to  this  scene  the  charm  which  Miss 
Maddern  gave  it.  Its  grief,  its  courage,  its  womanli- 
ness, were  so  human  that  many  an  old  stager  who 
thought  his  day  for  tears  had  passed  paid  it  an  involun- 
tary tribute.  In  that  one  scene  in  a  play  full,  I  con- 
fess, of  mistaken  bits,  was  felt  at  that  time  the  divine 
instincts  which  gave  to  the  French  stage  the  Sarah 
Bernhardt  of  the  Comedie  Fran^aise,  and  to  the  London 
stage  an  Ellen  Terry;  and  widely  as  the  careers  differ, 
these  three  women  were  in  my  thoughts  of  the  stage 
temperamentally  bracketed,  until  the  rise  of  Duse, 
whom  Maddern  is  still  more  like.    - 


MINNIE    MADDERN-FISKE.  339 

For  a  few  years  after  the  withdrawal  of  this  play, 
Miss  Minnie  was  on  the  road,  and  once  more  living 
over  her  early  career  in  the  West.  In  May,  1890,  she 
reappeared  in  New  York  in  the  title  role  of  "  Feather- 
brain," an  r^nglish  comedy  presented  at  the  Madison 
Sqnare  Theatre,  and  in  which  Miss  IMaddern's  quaint 
humor  made  quite  an  impression.  She  did  not  care  for 
the  part  herself,  and  opinions  differ  widely  in  regard  to 
her  performance.  I  cannot  speak  personally  of  it,  as  I 
did  not  visit  New  York  while  it  was  running. 

Her  last  apjK'arance,  before  her  retirement,  was  made 
in  February,  1890,  the  i8th,  I  think,  at  Toronto,  in  "  In 
Spite  of  All  ;  "  and  March  19,  1890,  she  was  married 
at  Larchmont,  N.Y.,  to  Mr.  Harrison  Grey  Fiske,  the 
editor  of  the   New  York  Dnxuiatic  Mirror. 

From  her  marriage  to  the  winter  of  1893,  Minnie 
Maddern-Fiske  lived  quietly  in  New  York,  and  for  two 
years  of  that  time  she  showed  little  sign  of  returning 
to  the  stage.  She  was  active  with  her  pen,  writing  a 
play  with  her  husband  for  James  O'Neil,  "  I'ontenelle," 
and  with  Paul  Kesker  for  Madame  Modjeska,  "The 
Countess  Rodine,"  and  doing  several  little  curtain 
raisers  which  were  acted  and  printed.  Several  times 
she  appeared  for  charity  in  New  York,  and  whenever 
she  did  actors  were  wildly  enthusiastic  about  her. 

Nov.  20,  1893,  at  the  Trennmt  Theatre  in  Bo.s- 
ton  she  reappeared  in  the  title  role  of  "Hester 
Crewe,"  a  play  by  her  husband,  and  a  strangely  bad 
play,  suggesting  at  points  George  Kliot's  story  of 
"Adam  Ik'de."  This  play  was  a  disastrous  failure, 
although  it  proved  that  the  actress  was  still  pos.sessed 
of  magnetic  re|>ose,  and  that  her  odd  personality  had 
not    sunk   into  commonplaceness   in    retirement.      For 


340         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

two  years  more  she  was  in  retirement,  and  then  in  the 
early  fall  she  started  out  again  touring  West  and  South  ; 
and  reaching  New  York  March  21,  1896,  where  at  the 
Garden  Theatre  she  again  bid  for  favor.  As  usual  the 
critics  dubbed  her  great  of  temperament,  wonderful  in 
her  power  of  repose,  her  unconventionality,  her  truth, 
and  her  uniqueness  of  personal  expression.  The  play 
she  i^roduced  was  "  Marie  Deloche,"  a  version  of  Al- 
phonse  Daudet  and  Leon  Ilenniquc's  "  La  Mcnteuse," 
which  was  first  produced  at  the  Gymnase,  Paris,  Feb. 
4,  1892,  a  subtle  study  most  admirably  portrayed. 
Mrs.  Fiske  has  played  also  Dumas's  "  La  Femme  de 
Claude,"  never  before  given  in  English ;  Nora  in  Ibsen's 
"Doll's  House"  —  which  she  first  gave  at  a  charity 
benefit,  two  years  before  ;  a  little  realistic  tragedy 
of  her  own,  "  A  Light  from  St.  Agnes  ;  "  and  "  Frou- 
Frou." 

Yet  one  is  with  all  this  unable  to  feel  that  Minnie 
Maddern-Fiske  has  yet  arrived.  She  has  a  remarkable 
temperament,  and  is  one  of  the  most  intellectual  women 
on  the  stage.  She  is  as  an  actress  devoid  of  convention- 
ality, absolutely  free  from  any  cheap  theatrical  faults, 
and  more  apt  to  under  play  than  over  play  ;  yet  she 
lacks  the  element  of  popularity,  and  is  often  unconvin- 
cing, unfinished,  incomplete,  suggesting  far  more  than 
she  realizes,  showing  an  intelligent  comprehension  of 
more  than  she  executes.  But  even  to-day  she  is  not 
at  the  zenith  of  her  possibility  ;  and  while  her  Marie 
Deloche  is  a  step  in  front  of  her  earlier  work,  it  is  not 
yet  time  to  judge  her  finally. 


H.   H.   CRANE, 


WILLIAM   H.   CRANE. 

By  Joski'H  Howard,  Jr. 


It  is  nonsense  to  say  that  men  cannot  be  properly 
estimated,  their  worth  fairly  weighed,  until  the  clod 
has  fallen  upon  their  caskets. 

A  pound  is  a  pound  to-day,  just  as  much  as  it  was 
a  hundred  years  ago,  just  as  absolutely  as  it  will  be  a 
hundred  years  hence.  "  A  man's  a  man  for  a'  that," 
whether  he  be  looked  at  eye  to  eye,  or  through  the 
telescope  of  history.  In  fact,  it  would  seem  as  though 
the  old  maxim,  "  Speak  nothing  but  good  of  the  dead," 
made  a  just  estimate  of  a  man's  value,  after  his  labors 
are  ended,  an  impossibility.  Wiiat  do  we  know,  as 
matter  of  fact,  beyond  gossip  and  distorted  stories, 
concerning  any  of  the  great  or  the  lesser  names  of 
the  past  ? 

The  proper  time  to  estimate  William  H.  Crane  as  an 
artist,  a  financier,  an  cncourager  of  native  authorshij), 
as  an  individual,  is  now,  when  we  can  look  him  .squarely 
in  the  face,  listen  to  his  voice,  observe  closely  his  habits 
of  speech,  of  gesture,  nay,  follow  the  very  currents  of 
his  thought. 

FoT  purely  perfunctory  purposes  it  may  be  well  to 
say  that  Crane  is  not  only  an  American,  but  an  Ameri- 
can of  the  Americans,  having  been  born  in  Leicester, 

34 « 


342  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

Mass.,  April  30,  1845.  While  a  lad  in  school  he  had 
a  bass  voice  of  phenomenal  range  for  one  of  his  age  ; 
and  later,  when  fifteen  or  sixteen  years  old  he  was 
clerking  in  a  dry-goods  store,  he  and  others  formed  a 
company  known  as  the  Young  Campbell  Minstrels,  and 
gave  concerts  greatly  to  the  delight  of  the  people  of 
the  village.  Crane's  favorite  song  being  "  The  Jolly 
Raftsman."  In  1863,  when  the  celebrated  Holman 
Company  visited  Boston,  having  made  the  acquaintance 
of  some  of  the  children,  he  was  offered  a  small  position 
by  Mr.  Holman,  who  agreed  to  pay  all  his  expenses  for 
a  year,  and  give  him  a  little  extra  for  spending  money. 
It  seems  odd  to  us,  who  see  Crane  to-day,  in  all  the 
dignity  of  mature  experience,  at  the  head  of  a  well- 
equipped  organization,  one  of  the  wealthiest  stars  in 
the  land,  to  think  of  him  as  singing  for  seven  years 
with  a  band  of  youthful  associates  in  the  "  Child  of  the 
Regiment,"  "  Fra  Diavolo,"  "  Sonnambula,"  and  a  re- 
pertoire of  farcical  one-act  pieces.  But  that  is  what  he 
did. 

And  there  is  where  he  received  training  severe,  and 
discipline  necessary,  leading  up  to  an  engagement  with 
the  Oates  Opera  Company,  with  which  he  remained 
four  consecutive  seasons,  travelling  from  one  end  of 
the  country  to  the  other,  as  the  singing  comedian  in 
an  operatic  menu  ranging  from  the  legitimate  through 
comic  bouffe. 

Crane  is  a  born  comedian. 

He  was  not  a  comedian  simply  because  cast  for  comic 
parts.  He  is  one  of  the  men  in  whose  eye  can  be  de- 
tected that  much  written  of  "twinkle,"  betraying  quick 
perception,  even  quicker  intuition,  and  an  all-around 
apprehension  of  the  fun,  not   alone  of  phrase,  but  of 


WILLIAM     II.  CRANE.  343 

situations.  When  "  Evangeline "  was  produced  by 
the  Oates  Company  in  Niblo's  Garden  in  1873,  Crane 
created  the  part  of  LeBlanc,  achieving  at  a  bound  a 
success  so  marked,  so  pronounced,  as  to  still  be  far  in 
the  lead  of  efforts  made  with  intelligent  industry  by  a 
host  of  imitators,  no  one  of  whom  has  approached  the 
hither  verge  of  Crane's  unquestionable  triumph. 

Crane  is  ambitious. 

Ambition  is  an  inspiring  factor.  Without  it  the  dead 
level  of  the  world  would  be  stupid  enough,  —  monoto- 
nous, profitless,  with  no  trace  of  enthusiasm,  no  senti- 
ment, indeed,  no  fire,  no  push.  There  are  ambitions 
along  different  lines  ;  and  although  it  is  undoubtedly 
true  that  Crane  is  ambitious  for  money,  ambitious  for 
repute,  ambitious  for  a  good  name,  his  chief  ambition 
is  to  be  known  as  an  encourager  of  native  authorship, 
and  to  have  a  first  place  among  the  interpreters  of 
native  thought.  It  would  be  folly  to  say  that  when  he 
was  comedian  in  a  comic  opera  troujje  these  ideas  were 
formulated  into  a  fixed  purpose,  and  that  the  young 
man,  then  doubtless  more  or  less  intoxicated  by  popu- 
lar applause,  and  by  a  recognition  always  extended  to 
him  from  the  first  by  the  most  conservative  presses, 
deliberately  planned  what  he  is  now  so  admirably  out- 
working. It  is,  however,  an  undeniable  fact  that,  so 
long  ago  as  1874,  regarding  himself  with  judicial  eye, 
and  forecasting  probabilities  with  almost  prophetic  in- 
tuition, he  determined  to  kick  from  him  the  lailder  on 
which  he  had  mounted,  and  to  start  forward  upon  the 
plane  attained  with  loftier  purj^ose,  and  a  genuine  re- 
gard for  honest  work,  and  that  fruitage  which  is  almost 
a  certain  harvest  in  the  field  of  his  peculiar  toil. 

So  he  gave  up  singing. 


344         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACIOKS    OF   TO-DAY. 

And  having  given  that  up,  recognizing  that  his  ability 
as  a  comedian  and  his  natural  trend  toward  laughter 
provocation  had  so  far  been  a  large  factor  in  the  prob- 
lem of  success,  he  determined  to  continue  as  a  co- 
median, though  as  a  speaker  rather  than  a  singer.  But 
his  friends,  and  especially  his  employers,  took  a  pre- 
cisely opposite  view,  and  argued,  accompanying  argu- 
ment with  inducement,  that  it  would  be  wiser  for  him 
to  remain  where  success  was  certain,  than  to  attempt 
what  was  an  unknown  field  to  him. 

Yet  he  was  firm. 

And  firmness,  along  a  line  once  determined  upon, 
was  then,  as  it  is  to-day,  a  pronounced  feature  of  his 
composition.  No  man  ever  yet  succeeded  in  business 
who  was  destitute  of  the  ability  to  say  "yes  "  and 
mean  it,  to  say  "  no  "  and  to  .stick  to  it.  It  is  doubtful 
if  any  star  upon  the  American  boards  is  more  generous 
with  his  associates,  more  considerate  of  his  subordi- 
nates, more  ready  to  listen  to  argument  and  suggestion 
from  his  manager,  than  Crane  ;  yet  associates,  subordi- 
nates, and  manager  will  agree  in  the  assertion  that, 
after  argument  is  ended  and  decision  reached,  he  is  as 
immovable  as  the  Rock  of  Gibraltar.  Having  deemed 
it  best  to  leave  comic  opera  and  enter  upon  the  dra- 
matic field,  he  accepted  a  position  in  Hooley's  Chicago 
Theatre,  where  he  at  once  earned  recognition  and 
won  substantial  reputation.  In  "  Married  Life  "  and 
"  The  Rough  Diamond,"  as  Hector  Placide  in  "  Led 
Astray,"  Meddle  in  "  London  Assurance,"  Templeton 
Jitt  in  "  Divorce,"  Mr.  Crux  in  "  School,"  Aminadab 
Sleek  in  "  The  Serious  Family,"  and  Tom  Tack  in 
"Time  Tries  All,"  he  achieved  successes  equal  to  those 
he  made  in  General  Boum,  and  LeBlanc. 


WILLIAM    II.    CRANE.  345 

He  was  on  the  threshold  of  new  triumphs. 

And  from  that  day  on,  steered  by  ambitious  deter- 
mination to  do  everything  he  attempted  a  little  better 
than  he  did  its  predecessor,  and  not  only  to  make  but 
to  leave  an  indelible  mark  wherever  he  went,  it  is  but 
fair  to  say  he  abundantly  justified  what  his  friends  and 
okl-time  employers  were  pleased  to  term  his  "  stub- 
bornness," in  refusing  to  reconsider  his  deliberate 
choice  of  a  new  phase,  a  new  branch,  a  new  line,  of  the 
profession  he  had  adopted.  The  following  season  he 
was  stage-manager  in  Hooloy's  Theatre,  in  which  posi- 
tion he  developed  a  new  characteristic,  —  that  of  a  disci- 
plinarian, combining  promptness  with  decision,  and  the 
two  with  never  failing  good  nature,  thereby  enabling 
him  to  get  from  the  company  an  amount  of  labor 
which  justified  them  in  being  the  associates  of  one  who 
had  already  developed  genius  of  a  most  interesting  and 
promising  nature.  With  the  Hooley  Company,  Crane 
went  to  California,  where  they  did  an  enormous  busi- 
ness, which  largely  hinged  upon  the  peculiarities  and 
versatilities  of  the  stage-manager,  who  had  already 
taken  the  lead,  and  seemed  bound  to  keep  it.  An  in- 
teresting feature  of  this  trip  was  the  debut  of  Miss 
Ella  Kraigline  in  the  always  effective  role  of  the 
nun.  Sister  Genevieve,  in  "  The  Two  Orphans."  Miss 
Kraighne,  who  made  a  most  favorable  impression  in 
that,  as  also  in  Glib  in  *'  Ultimo,"  about  that  time  illus- 
trated a  new  reading  of  the  old  proverb  which  savs, 
"Change  the  name  and  not  the  letter  is  a  change  for 
the  worse  and  not  for  the  better;"  and  when  Miss 
Kraighne  became  Mrs.  Crane,  she  took  not  only  the 
most  important,  but  the  ni«)st  charming  step  in  her 
life  —  a  step  which  brought   to  the  side  of   the  rising 


34^        FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

Star  a  helpmate  in  the  best  and  truest  sense  of  that 
significant  term,  to  whom  he  in  his  hour  of  gloom  was 
indebted  for  cheer  and  encouragement,  and  in  his  hours 
of  prosperity  for  a  careful,  prudent,  and  sagacious  part- 
ner. At  this  time  John  McCullough  was  the  proprietor 
of  the  California  Theatre,  Barton  Hill,  manager;  and 
in  the  company  were  T.  W.  Kecne,  W.  A.  Mestayer, 
Robert  Pateman,  Miss  Bella  Pateman,  Miss  Ellie  Wil- 
ton, Mrs.  Judah,  Miss  Alice  Harrison,  Miss  Marion 
Singer,  Nelson  Decker,  and  William  H.  Crane. 

Crane  was  on  the  road  to  fortune. 

An  idea  of  his  popularity  may  be  gained  from  the 
fact  that,  in  January,  1876,  the  governor,  State  oflficers, 
and  members  of  the  California  Legislature,  desiring  to 
give  him  substantial  evidence  of  their  regard  and  high 
appreciation  of  his  dramatic  ability,  tendered  him  a 
benefit  in  the  Metropolitan  Theatre  in  Sacramento,  of 
which  Thomas  J.  McGuire  was  manager.  At  this  ben- 
efit, according  to  contemporaneous  record,  a  brilliant 
audience,  which  packed  the  house,  was  present;  and 
every  evidence  of  common-sense  recognition,  of  favor 
possible  to  conceive,  was  extended  to  the  beneficiary. 
Crane  then  came  to  New  York,  and,  in  the  Park  Thea- 
tre, took  a  step  forward,  playing,  under  the  manage- 
ment of  Henry  E.  Abbey,  Dick  Swiveller  to  Lotta's 
Little  Nell  ;  for  which  part  he  was  specially  engaged, 
and  for  which  he  received  the  unanimous  recognition 
of  the  papers,  a  fact  that  impressed  upon  his  own  mind 
the  desirability  of  immediately  securing  further  and 
better  opportunity  for  himself  as  an  individual  in  the 
profession. 

This  he  then  and  there  obtained. 

Mr.  Abbey,  in  the  latter  part  of  January,  1877,  pro- 


WILLIAM    H.    CRANE.  347 

duced  in  the  Park  Theatre  a  play  by  Leonard  Grover 
entitled  "  Our  Boarding  House,"  in  which  Crane  as 
Colonel  M.  T.  Elevator,  and  Stuart  Robson  as  Profes- 
sor Gillipod,  paralyzed  the  public  by  an  association  of 
artistic  grotesquery  and  clean-cut  comicality  never 
before  seen  upon  the  local  stage.  It  may  be  said  that 
at  this  point  Mr.  Crane's  phenomenal  fortune  began, 
continuing  with  ever-increasing  brilliancy  down  to  the 
present  time.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say,  in  fact,  it  is 
but  obvious  justice  to  say,  that  the  hit  of  the  evening 
was  made  by  Crane,  who  was  extremely  odd,  eccentric, 
"  funny,"  as  the  phrase  goes,  as  Colonel  Elevator.  His 
denunciation,  in  the  absence  of  Gillipod,  and  threats  of 
vengeance,  when  contrasted  with  his  lamblike  conduct 
when  brought  face  to  face  with  the  professor,  was  the 
very  acme  of  farce  comedy,  the  farce  permeating  the 
comedy,  and  the  comedy  refining  the  farce.  The  suc- 
cess of  the  season  was  made  emphatic  by  the  wide 
horizoned  popularity  of  the  play  and  the  players,  result- 
ing in  offers  numerous  and  flattering.  This  brouglit 
about  a  partnership  between  the  two  comedians,  Rob- 
son  and  Crane,  who  determined  together  to  put  into 
effect  Crane's  gradually  maturing  programme  of  se- 
curing American  plays  from  American  authors,  their 
first  effort  being  in  a  piece,  written  by  Mr.  Hradford, 
called  "Our  Hachelors."  Prior  to  this,  however,  Rob- 
son  and  Crane  appeared  in  Boucicault's  *'  Forbidden 
Fruit,"  Crane  as  Huster  and  Robson  as  Cato  Dove, 
with  such  great  and  immediate  success,  that  John 
McCullough  took  them  on  a  Californian  tour,  from 
which  they  returned  with  more  money  each  than  they 
had  together  owned  in  all  their  past  careers.  "  Our 
Hachelors,"  although  an  adaptation  from  the  German, 


34^  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

was  a  notable  comedy  success  from  the  American  ])oint 
of  view.  This  was  followed  as  years  rolled  away  by 
"  Sharps  and  Flats,"  a  notable  revival  of  "  The  Comedy 
of  Errors,"  an  excellent  presentation  of  "  The  Merry 
Wives  of  Windsor,"  and  other  plays,  modern  and  an- 
cient, which  broui^ht  them  down  to  the  fall  of  1887. 

Their  second  decade  now  began. 

All  this  time  Crane  had  grown.  He  had  settled  into 
the  calm  existence  of  a  domestician  ;  he  had  learned 
the  value  of  money;  he  had  found  in  his  wife  a  care- 
ful, prudent,  and  thoughtful  pecuniary  manager.  He 
saw  himself  a  recognized  attraction,  potent  on  all  the 
circuits  East  and  West,  North  and  South  ;  and  with 
brains  enough  to  appreciate  the  fact  that  an  actor 
who  was  equally  welcome  in  Toby  Belch,  Dullstone 
Flat,  Jowler,  Dromio,  Falstaff,  and  LeBlanc,  and  could 
draw  packed  houses  at  every  appearance,  ought  to  be 
worth  a  little  something  to  himself.  Crane  and  Rob- 
son  had  now  been  together  ten  years,  each  supplement- 
ing the  other  perfectly.  They  had  tried  everything  of 
the  olden  time  in  which  there  was  a  possibility  of  both 
being  properly  cast,  but  they  naturally  longed  for  spe- 
cial opportunities  for  individual  as  well  as  combined 
success.  Such  an  opportunity  was  found  in  "  The 
Henrietta,"  written  by  Bronson  Howard,  and  brought 
out  by  Robson  and  Crane  in  the  Union  Square  Theatre 
in  the  fall  of  1887. 

"  The  Henrietta  "  was  a  bold  effort  in  pure  comedy, 
which  has  well  been  styled  the  most  difficult  field  of 
dramatic  composition.  Its  success  was  immediate,  pro- 
nounced, thorough,  honest,  and  deserved.  Each  actor 
was  well  fitted  ;  and  the  satirical  picture  of  contempo- 
raneous life  and  manners  in  New  York,  with  special 


WILLIAM    H.    CRANE.  349 

reference  to  the  smartness,  hollowness,  and  the  fatuity 
which  attend  operations  in  Wall  Street,  took  the  town 
through  the  eyes  and  ears,  by  the  very  heart,  and  in- 
sured not  alone  a  continuity  of  financial  prosperity,  but 
the  possibility  of  steady  growth  along  the  line  of  artis- 
tic merit.  Something  besides  good  acting  on  the  stage 
and  physical  rest  during  the  hours  of  leisure  were  now 
needed, — good  judgment  in  choosing  plays  for  the 
future,  careful  selection  in  composing  the  casts,  liberal 
taste  in  mounting.  The  fact  that  it  was  an  entrance 
into  a  field  already  well  occupied,  where  magnificent 
productions  were  the  rule,  and  enterprising  managers 
the  rivals,  were  matters  for  grave  consideration,  all 
stimulants  to  growth,  and  to  growth  in  right  directions. 
The  two  men  worked  together  harmoniously,  pleasing 
the  public,  coining  money  ;  Crane,  as  Nicholas  Vanal- 
styne,  at  all  times  mobile,  emotional,  unctuous,  fluent, 
forceful,  a  pusher,  a  driver,  as  honest  in  his  excessive 
generosity  here  as  he  was  earnest  in  clean-cut  robbery 
of  his  best  business  friend  there. 

He  had  become  a  lion. 

He  was  recognized  universally  by  the  critics,  by  the 
best  thinkers  among  the  public,  and  by  audiences  in 
general,  as  strong  in  the  development  of  high-class 
comedy,  with  the  ability  to  appreciate  and  portray 
types  of  character  universally  recognized  and  under- 
stood, but  nevertheless  most  difficult  to  paint  upon  the 
popular  canvas.  At  this  time,  when  asked  what  he 
preferred  to  play,  American  or  Shakesperian  comedy. 
Crane  said,  "I  confess  to  liking  the  American  better. 
It  gives  me  greater  opjX)rtunities.  Now  I  present  a 
mixture  of  humor,  pathos,  and  sentiment.  It  is  higher 
work  than   I    have  done  before  ;  and  as  the  public  is 


3b 


O         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF    TO-DAV 


pleased  to  like  mc,  I,  of  course,  enjoy  tlie  means  of 
gratifying  them  and  my  own  aspirations  at  the  same 
time." 

His  own  aspirations! 

That  is  precisely  the  point  made  earlier  in  this 
sketch.  Having  found  himself  endowed  by  nature 
with  certain  capacities,  with  unmistakable  faculties  for 
better  work  and  higher  work  and  nobler  work  than  he 
was  then  engaged  in,  at  what  appeared  to  his  friends 
and  advisors  a  pecuniary  and  professional  sacrifice,  he 
deliberately  turned  his  back  upon  the  past,  and  faced 
with  unflinching  and  characteristic  courajje  a  future 
which  must  be  fought  for  ere  it  could  be  won,  but  in 
which  he  believed  he  saw  golden  opportunities  for 
fame,  for  recognition  from  those  whose  regard  he  re- 
spected, and  for  a  right  ultimately  to  stand  among  the 
few  at  the  head. 

In  1888  Crane  and  Robson  parted  ;  and  on  the  stage 
of  the  Chicago  Opera  House,  in  reference  to  certain  ill- 
natured  remarks  that  had  been  passed  concerning  the 
feeling  between  the  twelve-year  partners,  Robson  said, 
"  It  will  ever  be  with  a  sentiment  of  mingled  satis- 
faction and  pride  that  I  shall  recall  the  times  when  it 
was  my  good  fortune  to  share  honors  with  one  whom 
I  esteem  as  an  honorable  man,  a  generous  friend,  and 
a  matchless  actor."  And  Crane  in  response  said, 
"  While  we  think  ttiat  the  change  we  are  about  to 
make  is  for  the  best,  and  we  are  separating  willingly, 
we  cannot  part  without  regret.  For  twelve  years  we 
have  worked  loyally  and  hard  together.  We  have  tried 
to  serve  our  art  as  well  as  ourselves,  while  we  have 
endeavored  to  amuse  and  entertain  our  friends.  With 
the  heartiest  Godspeed,  the  kindliest  interest  in  each 


WILLIAM    II.  CRANE. 


JD 


Other's  welfare,  the  warmest  i)ersonal  feeling  toward 
one  another,  we  set  off  next  season,  each  on  his  sepa- 
rate way." 

Then  came  "  The  Senator." 

American  through  and  through  in  scene,  incident, 
language,  and  movement,  with  a  remarkable  realism 
which  makes  it  as  phenomenal  a  favorite  in  the  na- 
tional capital  as  in  any  city  in  the  United  States,  the 
individual  work  of  Crane  in  this  comedy  is  simply  tre- 
mendous. In  the  last  act  he  is  on  the  stage  the  entire 
time.  Were  it  not  for  his  superabundant  vitality, 
his  Senator  Rivers  would  be  a  physical  impossibility. 
The  actor's  head  is  as  full  of  business  as  the  genuine 
Senator  found  himself  overburdened  with.  The  hinge 
on  which  plot  and  counterplot  turn,  the  Senator,  is 
occupied  from  start  to  finish,  as  the  engineer,  the 
mechanician,  the  diplomatist,  the  bluffer,  the  man  of 
the  world,  the  thoughtful  employer,  everybody's  friend, 
and  the  doubting  lover.  In  all  these  phases,  these 
types  of  character,  Crane  has  found  study  profitable. 
It  may  be  doubted  if  a  more  artistic  picture  has  been 
presented  upon  the  modern  stage,  so  faithful  to  recog- 
nizable life,  so  absolute  a  photograph  of  thoroughly 
appreciated  situations,  as  the  Senator  in  the  hands  of 
Mr.  Crane. 

With  characteristic  generosity  the  now  capitalistic 
actor  finds  pleasure  as  well  as  profit  in  the  encourage- 
ment of  native  authorship.  To  his  repertory  he  has 
added  "The  Governor  of  Kentucky,"  by  Franklin 
Fyles,  and  "  His  Wife's  Father,"  by  Martha  Morton, 
and  with  the  two  has  increased  his  prosperity.  He 
now  stands  where  his  early  ambitions  hoped  he  might. 


STUART  ROBSON. 

By  Chaki.es  M.  Skinner. 


Stuart  Robson  is  a  grown-up  cherub.  The  state- 
ment is  made  with  a  wince  of  misgiving,  not  from 
doubt  of  the  truth  of  it,  but  from  certainty  thereof ;  for 
the  phrase  is  one  that  seems  likely  to  have  been  used, 
and  so  made  trite.  Yet  I  hazard  an  insistence  on  the 
definition  as  the  completest  that  suggests  itself. 

The  first  time  that  I  saw  this  comedian  was  in  Bos- 
ton, as  Captain  Crosstree  in  a  burlesque  of  "  Black- 
Eyed  Susan  ;  "  and  his  appearance  was  a  cause  of  mirth. 
A  body  artificially  inflated  to  the  dimension  of  a  Lam- 
bert, and  cased  in  a  naval  uniform  of  white,  was  topped 
with  a  smooth,  round  head  that  had  a  birdlike  way  of 
turning,  and  was  peaked  away  into  one  of  the  largest 
and  most  ferocious  noses  that  ever  illuminated  human 
countenance  ;  the  eyes  were  clear  and  innocent ;  the 
hands  dangled  at  the  waist,  or  wreathed  themselves  in 
meek,  complying  attitudes ;  the  gestures  were  what 
Delsarte  would  prescribe  as  not  appropriate  to  the  emo- 
tions they  presumably  illustrated;  the  legs  had  a  twin- 
kling activity  out  of  keeping  with  the  presumptive  bulk 
that  they  propelled  ;  and  the  voice  was  almost  a  treble, 
with  a  lisp  and  an  upward  slide  to  the  sentences  like 
that  of  an  infant  uncertain  of  its  words.     The  whole 

352 


STUART  ROBSON   IN    'THE  HENRIETTA.' 


STUART    ROBSON.  353 

apparition  was  so  full  of  incongruity,  and  conduct  so 
belied  appearance,  that  the  audience  had  the  shock  of 
something  like  a  new  experience  before  the  extrava- 
gant humor  of  the  thing  brought  laughter  out.  Nose, 
paunch,  uniform,  and  trappings  denoted  recklessness, 
command,  and  passion,  but  eyes,  hands,  legs,  and  bear- 
ing were  those  of  an  Arcadian  shepherd  ;  the  text  was 
full  of  threat  and  bluster,  while  the  voice  that  uttered 
it  was  as  the  cooing  of  a  dove. 

The  juvenile  innocence  and  freshness  of  this  man 
are  what  give  greatest  distinction  to  his  work  ;  to 
sundry  of  his  characters,  like  Crosstree,  they  add  the 
humor  of  anomaly  ;  in  others,  as  in  "  The  Henrietta," 
they  emphasize  character.  In  tiie  last-named  play  —  the 
clever  work  of  Bronson  Howard  —  he  appears  as  the 
son  of  an  industrious  and  reckless  money -getter, — one 
of  those  typical  rich  men's  sons  that  parade  Fifth  Ave- 
nue in  clothes  and  manners  and  dialect  bought  and 
borrowed  from  London,  and  that  occupy  their  minds 
with  clubs,  clothes,  and  chorus  girls  ;  young  fellows  of 
singular  uselessness.  Mr.  Robson's  Bertie  in  this  com- 
edy has  been  gleefully  hailed  wherever  Anglomaniacs 
have  develoj)ed  ;  for  the  empty  stare,  the  affectation  of 
the  monocle,  and  certain  pretensions  of  attitude  and 
speech,  are  recognized,  and  the  audience  is  glad  of  the 
chance  to  vent  its  opinion  of  the  class  in  laughter. 
Vet,  in  spite  of  perky  gestures  and  high  and  lisping 
voice,  the  character  wins  us  ;  for  it  develops  frankness 
and  heart  as  the  play  goes  on,  the  dramatist  having 
skilfully  written  around  Mr.  Robson's  limitations,  mak- 
ing the  part  integral  in  many  situations  that  are  foreign 
to  its  nature,  just  as  a  single  note  in  music  makes  jiart 
in  half  a  dozen  chords. 


354        FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

It  is  a  fact  worth  mention  that  Mr.  Robson's  d^hit 
was  made  in  the  company  of  several  boys  who  were 
destined  to  fame  in  later  years  ;  namely,  Edwin  Booth, 
John  Wilkes  Booth,  S.  Barry,  John  Sleeper  Clarke, 
W.  Talbott  and  G.  H.  Stout.  A  stable  was  the  portal 
through  which  these  aspirants  entered  the  world  of  art. 
They  had  built  a  stage  in  the  loft,  and  had  decorated  its 
outer  walls  with  written  posters  declaring  these  rates 
of  admission  :  "  Boys,  3  cents ;  little  boys,  2  cents. 
Come  early,  and  bring  your  fathers  and  mothers."  The 
comedian  was  born  in  Annapolis,  Md.,  on  March  4, 
1836;  and  he  received  a  liberal  education  from  his 
father,  who  was  a  prosperous  lawyer  of  that  town. 
Seeing  the  various  strolling  troupes  that  made  a  "one- 
night  stand  "  in  the  place,  he  imbibed  a  love  for  the 
stage  that  was  fostered  by  the  ampler  opportunities  and 
more  enlivening  performances  given  in  Baltimore,  to 
which  city  he  removed  at  the  age  of  twelve. 

Here  he  resolved  to  be  an  actor,  and  when  he  made 
his  first  professional  appearance  it  was  with  the  expec- 
tation that  he  would  be  a  tragedian.  A  tragedian  with 
those  eyes  and  that  voice  !  Well,  he  is  not  the  only 
one  who  has  thus  misjudged  his  quality  and  calling,  or 
has  failed  to  adapt  his  impulses  to  his  means  of  execu- 
tion. The  world  is  full  of  round  pegs  in  square  holes. 
Edwin  Booth  used  to  sing  negro  melodies  and  strum 
the  banjo  ;  and  as  to  comedians  who  wanted  to  play 
Hamlet,  you  can  name  half  of  all  those  who  are  on 
the  stage.  And  some  of  them  remain  comedians  when 
they  play  Hamlet. 

John  E.  Owens,  an  admirable  comedian  himself,  and 
a  candidate  for  tragedy  likewise,  if  memory  serves  me, 
gave    Robson    his    first  opportunity  after  that  young 


STUART    ROBSON.  355 

hopeful  had  worried  him  for  a  long  time  ;  and  on  Jan. 
5,  1852,  S.  Robson,  as  he  was  styled  on  the  bill, 
emerged  into  view  of  an  audience  at  the  l^altimore 
Museum,  quaking  and  stammering  with  stage  fright. 
He  was  cast  for  Horace  Courtney  in  "  Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin  As  It  Is,"  a  work  by  Professor  Hewett,  written 
as  an  offset  to  Mrs.  Stowe's  tale  of  the  horrors  of 
slavery.  Professor  Hewett  is  forgotten,  and  so  is  his 
play  ;  but  Uncle  Tom  still  stumps  about  the  provinces. 
Master  Robson's  part  was  serious  and  sentimental,  but 
he  was  not  ;  at  least  the  audience  did  not  think  so,  for 
it  laughed  at  his  appearance,  at  his  fright,  at  his  hesi- 
tancy, and  the  more  gloomy  he  became,  the  merrier 
grew  the  populace.  At  the  end  of  the  play  the 
prompter  congratulated  the  lad,  and  told  him  he  had 
succeeded  —  in  being  funny.  The  beginner  replied  in 
these  words :  "  I  am  aware,  sir,  that  I  made  myself 
sufficiently  ridiculous,  without  your  reminding  me  of 
it ;  but,  as  they  laughed  so  much  at  my  tragedy,  I  will 
give  them  an  opportunity  to  honor  my  comedy,  for  I 
intend  to  become  a  comctlian." 

After  that  night  he  studied  in  new  earnest  ;  and  for 
the  next  two  or  three  years  he  played  such  comedy 
parts  as  were  given  to  iiim,  securing  an  engagement  at 
Iron  Hall,  Washington,  in  1S55.  In  the  fall  of  that 
year  he  became  second  low  comedian  in  Wayne  Ol- 
wyne's  little  museum  in  Troy,  N.V.,  where  he  soon  be- 
came a  favorite  ;  next  year  he  went  over  the  Western 
circuit  as  leading  comedian  in  John  G.  Cartlitch's  Com- 
pany ;  and  in  the  fall  of  1857  he  reappeared  in  the  Bal- 
timore Museum,  this  time  evoking  laughter  that  was 
"a  tribute,  not  a  satire."  John  T.  Ford  engaged  him 
for  the   Holliday  Street  Theatre,   where   he    rem.iined 


356         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

for  three  years,  becoming  there  "  the  greatest  favorite 
since  the  days  of  Joseph  Jefferson  the  older." 

For  two  or  three  seasons  after  this  the  comedian 
played  in  Richmond,  St.  Louis,  Washington,  Cincin- 
nati, and  other  cities.  In  September,  1862,  he  began  a 
season's  engagement  at  Laura  Keene's  Theatre,  New 
York,  as  Bob  in  "Old  Heads  and  Young  Hearts;" 
thence  he  went  to  the  Arch  Street  Theatre,  Phila- 
delphia, remaining  there  for  three  years,  and  after  that 
to  Selwvn's  Theatre,  Boston.  He  was  associated  with 
Mrs.  John  Wood,  Rose  Hcrsee,  and  Robert  Craig  in  the 
cast  of  "  King  Carrott,"  when  that  work  was  brought 
out  in  New  York  at  the  Grand  Opera  House;  and  he 
had  an  experience  as  a  star,  brief  and  hardly  brilliant, 
in  the  character  of  John  Beat,  a  policeman,  in  "  Law  in 
New  York."  Metropolitan  play-goers  have  a  pleasant 
recollection  of  his  work  in  the  Union  Square  Theatre, 
where  he  played  in  a  variety  of  parts.  During  one  of 
his  summer  vacations  at  this  theatre,  he  and  Mr.  Thorne 
ran  over  to  London  and  brought  out  Boucicault's  "  Led 
Astray,"  the  quietly  funny  part  of  Hector  in  this  drama 
—  the  man  who  could  not  be  taken  seriously  because 
he  had  a  boy's  voice  and  the  face  of  a  comic  singer  — 
fitting  him  admirably.  At  the  Union  Square,  Mr.  Rob- 
son  became  as  marked  a  favorite  as  Charles  Thorne, 
John  Parselle,  J.  H.  Stoddart,  Sara  Jcwett,  Fanny  Mo- 
rant,  Rose  Eytinge,  and  other  members  of  the  ad- 
mirable company  at  that  house.  In  1876  Robson 
appeared  in  Bret  Harte's  "Two  Men  of  Sandy  Bar;" 
but  the  public  did  not  take  kindly  to  the  piece,  and  in 
fourteen  weeks  the  comedian  succeeded  in  losing  six 
thousand  dollars,  the  savings  of  ten  years. 

Luck  came  in  his  way  next  season  ;  for  at  the  Park 


STUART    ROBSON.  357 

Theatre,  New  York,  he  was  cast  as  Professor  Gillipod, 
and  William  H.  Crane  as  Colonel  M.  T.  Elevator,  in 
Leonard  Grover's  comedy,  "Our  Boarding  House." 
These  two  characters  were  played  in  such  a  racy 
fashion,  they  had  so  many  traits  that  an  American 
audience  was  quick  and  glad  to  recognize,  that  they 
became  the  leading  characters  in  the  piece,  throwing 
the  usual  villain  and  lovers  into  the  background.  This 
chance  meeting  and  joint  success  resulted  in  a  partner- 
ship that  endured  for  twelve  years,  and  that  furnished 
a  suggestion  to  other  players  that  has  been  followed 
with  happy  results,  notably  in  the  partnership  of  Booth 
and  Barrett  in  tragedy,  and  of  Jeffer.son  and  Florence 
in  comedy.  Robson  and  Crane  played  modern  pieces 
together,  revived  "Twelfth  Night,"  "Merry  Wives  of 
Windsor,"  and  "Comedy  of  Errors,"  and  in  1888  pro- 
duced "The  Henrietta,"  Mr.  Crane  appearing  as  the 
energetic  Wall  Street  venturer,  and  Robson  as  his  son 
Bertie,  "the  lamb."  This  play  Mr.  Robson  bought  for 
his  own  use  the  next  year,  for  the  sum  of  twenty-five 
thousand  dollars  —  an  indication  of  what  good  native 
plavs  are  worth.  Mr.  Crane  found  an  equally  success- 
ful comedy  in  "The  Senator."  Mr.  Robson  has  like- 
wise added  to  his  re|iertory  a  work  of  somewhat 
whimsical  character,  yet  of  good  purpose,  named  "  Is 
Marriage  a  Failure  ?  "  that  contains  one  scene  in  which 
he  has  to  be  impressive  ;  and  his  effort  in  this  direction 
is  successful  enough  to  prove  that  he  was  not  wholly 
wrong  in  his  first  intent  to  do  serious  acting. 

Mr.  Rob.son's  appearance  on  the  stage  is  usually 
provocative  of  mirth,  and  his  entrance  is  greeted  with 
smiles  and  laughter.  He  has  a  sleek  and  youthful 
contour  and  countenance ;  his  eyes  are  large  and  inno- 


358         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY 

cent ;  he  is  in  a  state  of  constant  astonishment  at  the 
world  he  so  recently  came  into;  he  has  the  solemnity 
of  an  infant ;  he  walks  with  a  deliberate  teeter,  and  on 
facing  his  audience  absently  sways  from  side  to  side, 
sometimes  with  hands  depending  loosely  from  his 
wrists  ;  his  mouth  is  mobile  and  good-natured,  and  has 
a  way  of  dropping  slightly  open  whenever  he  intensi- 
fies surprise  ;  all  his  movements,  though  quick,  have 
ease  and  softness,  for  there  are  few  who  put  less  muscle 
into  their  acting  —  indeed,  some  of  his  most  character- 
istic points  are  made  by  relaxation  instead  of  effort. 
Sometimes  he  makes  an  assumption  of  mechanism  in 
gesture  and  look,  and  often  delivers  a  speech  as  if  re- 
peating it  after  a  prompter,  pumping  the  words  out, 
and  emphasizing  each,  a  method  that  in  sentences  of 
stern  purport  has  a  laughable  effect  of  antiphrasis. 
These  things  are  as  personal  to  his  stage  self  as  the 
color  of  his  hair  ;  they  are  difficult  of  imitation  ;  they 
are  amusing  and  engaging  if  temperamental,  and  origi- 
nal if  inventive.  They  persist,  however,  in  all  that  he 
does,  and  to  that  degree  confine  his  range. 

What  is  most  individual  in  his  acting  is  his  voice. 
There  is  no  other  like  it  on  the  stage,  and  you  recog- 
nize it  with  your  eyes  shut.  It  has  been  called  a 
squeak,  but  it  is  not  that :  it  is  a  tenor  that  rises  almost 
into  soprano  in  excitement  ;  it  has  sing-song  without 
monotony,  for  the  cadence  is  remarkable  ;  it  puts  ac- 
cents just  where  you  do  not  expect  to  hear  them  ;  it 
ends  words  with  a  slow  trill  or  quaver;  it  dwells  on 
vowels  ;  it  is  interrupted  with  little,  dry,  staccato 
laughs  ;  it  is  a  voice  that  is  full  of  surprises.  Take, 
for  example,  the  bad  word  said  by  the  comedian  when, 
in  "  The  Henrietta,"  he  returns  from  his  initiation  in 


STUART    ROBSOX.  359 

the  stock  exchange  with  smashed  hat  and  severed  gar- 
ments. Most  actors  would  pronounce  the  words  in  a 
strenuous  fashion,  with  a  vigorous  explosion  of  the  first 
word,  and  a  diminuendo  and  tonal  descent  thereafter. 
Mr.  Robson  pipes  it  forth  in  juvenile  rage  and  injured 
innocence  like  this  :  — 


Damn   Hen-ri  -  etrta-a-a! 


One  of  the  most  successful  appearances  that  the 
actor  made  was  in  "The  Comedy  of  Errors,"  he  and 
Mr.  Crane  appearing  as  the  two  Dromios.  This  im- 
posed more  of  a  burden  on  Mr.  Crane  than  on  Mr. 
Robson  ;  for  though  the  latter  made  the  type,  the  for- 
mer duplicated  his  mannerisms,  and  they  became  more 
funny  by  copying  than  ever.  Intellectual  vacuity  was 
expressed  in  a  bland  stare,  a  rocking  gait,  fingers  sucked 
or  tapped  and  pressed  together,  and  irresolute  swaying, 
while  voices  rai.sed  in  whimpering  protest  or  bleating 
in  appeal  called  answering  laughter  from  the  audience. 
The  likeness  between  the  two,  effected  by  dress  and 
make-up,  was  remarkable,  and  was  tiie  more  confusing 
when,  on  receiving  a  call  at  the  end  of  an  act,  the  co- 
medians quickly  changed  place  on  the  stage.  Since 
his  separation  from  this  partner,  Mr.  Robson  has  been 
acting  much  in  the  old  comedies,  esjiecially  in  "  She 
Stoops  to  Conquer." 

Though  neither  art  nor  nature  has  made  of  Mr. 
Robson  a  great  creative  actor,  they  have  made  him  a 
comedian,  and  as  such  he  is  unique.  It  is  his  jxTsonal- 
ity  as  much  as  his  acting  that  touches  his  audience,  but 


360         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

who  shall  deny  the  place  of  personality  in  theatric  art  ? 
We  admire  it  in  Jefferson,  we  liked  it  in  Wallack,  we 
love  it  in  women  when  it  takes  a  form  of  grace  and 
beauty.  Mr.  Robson  as  Claude  Melnotte  would  prob- 
ably be  a  failure  ;  as  Mr.  Robson  he  is  a  success. 

The  subject  of  this  sketch  married  the  daughter  of 
a  Baltimore  clergyman  in  1856,  and  lived  happily  with 
her  until  her  death  in  1890.  His  daughter  Alecia  was 
at  one  time  in  his  company,  but  retired  from  the  stage 
to  assume  domestic  and  social  duties  after  her  marriage 
in  Boston.  Recently  he  took  to  wife  Miss  May  Wal- 
dron,  the  leading  lady  of  his  company.  In  summer  the 
comedian  makes  his  home  at  Cohasset,  Mass.,  his  pic- 
turesque villa  having  a  more  than  local  renown  as  a 
place  of  hospitalities.  He  has  a  hobby  for  the  collec- 
tion of  books,  pictures,  autographs,  and  stage  relics  ; 
among  his  treasures  being  the  sword  with  which  Ouin 
accidentally  killed  Bowan  in  1719;  a  letter  from 
Macready  to  Elliston,  saying,  "I  love  a  lord,  and  hate 
a  player  ; "  a  prompt  copy  of  "  Merry  Wives  of  Wind- 
sor," date  1623  ;  a  letter  from  President  Buchanan 
declaring  Cooper  to  be  a  better  actor  than  Edmund 
Kean  ;  and  a  diatribe  by  John  Calvin  on  the  sin  of 
theatres,  in  which  he  says,  "  Hell  is  neither  deep 
enough  nor  hot  enough  for  players,  and  the  man  who 
would  enter  a  play-house  will  be  burned  in  fires  ever- 
lasting"— ^,a  declaration  that  has  no  effect  on  Mr.  Rob- 
son's  geniality  or  usefulness  in  his  chosen  field.  He 
has  lightened  care,  diffused  mirth,  stirred  wholesome 
emotions,  and  thereby  has  added  to  general  happiness. 


JOHN   T.    RAYMOND. 


JOHN    T.    RAYMOND 

By  Kranki.in  Fvi.es. 


Versatility  is  a  hindrance  to  popular  success  on 
the  stage.  Unvaried  individuality  is  a  help.  The 
actor  who  disguises  himself  effectually  in  his  assumetl 
characters,  and  whose  impersonations  are  actual  crea- 
tions of  mimetic  art,  gets  aj^preciation  and  praise  from 
the  few  considerate  observers  ;  but  to  the  great  ma- 
jority he  has  to  introduce  himself  anew  with  every  role, 
and  is  not  remembered  from  one  such  achievement  to 
another. 

Make  out  a  list  of  those  whom  you  deem  the  twenty, 
best  rewarded  players  alive  —  those  who  have  gained 
fame  and  money  most  plentifully.  You  are  likely  to 
name  Joseph  Jefferson  first  ;  and  in  him  you  have  a 
comedian  whose  quietude  of  humor,  quaintness  of  elo- 
cution, and  gentle  efficacy  of  fun,  are  never  changed. 
Tiie  Dutch  accent  of  Rip  Van  Winkle  does  not  alter 
them,  nor  does  the  trepiilation  of  Bol)  Acres  affect 
them,  and  they  all  belong  to  Mr.  Jefferson  in  private 
life.  They  constitute  an  inilividuality  which  has  tri- 
umphed on  the  stage,  and  he  could  not  ilivest  himself 
of  them  if  he  would.  William  II.  Crane  is  to-day, 
next  to  Mr.  Jefferson,  the  American  actor  most  recom- 
pensed  in  fame  and  wealth  ;  but  are  not  these  results 

361 


362         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

due  quite  as  much  to  liis  agreeable  personality  as  to 
his  undoubted  abilities  ?  Go  on  to  the  end  of  your 
selection  of  twenty  examples  of  great  prosperity  in 
acting,  and  the  real  mimics  will  be  outnumbered  by 
the  invariables  ten  to  one.  You  will  find  admirable 
versatility  in  some  member  of  nearly  every  dramatic 
company  ;  but  the  public  does  not  make  his  j)ersonal 
acquaintance,  and  he  never  gets  beyond  transitory  rec- 
ognition. The  easily  remembered  actor  is  the  one 
who  is  his  own  unchangeable  self,  no  matter  what 
kind  of  a  man  he  may  paint,  wig,  and  garb  himself  to 
look  like.  And  it  is  the  easily-remembered  actor,  who, 
if  his  singularities  are  interesting  and  amusing,  mounts 
to  the  top  of  the  ladder,  while  his  versatile  competitor 
keeps  climbing  from  the  ground  to  the  first  rung,  over 
and  over  and  over. 

Let  me  put  the  late  John  T.  Raymond  in  evidence. 
He  died  as  popular  as  any  American  comedian  of  his 
time,  and  he  would  have  died  rich  if  he  had  not  fooled 
away  his  income.  Still,  if  to  be  an  actor  is  to  be  a 
mimic,  he  was  not  an  actor  at  all.  He  was  devoid  of 
the  smallest  degree  of  versatility.  Once,  in  a  Saratoga 
hotel,  the  voice  of  Colonel  Mulberry  Sellers  was  raised 
behind  me.  Not  only  were  the  tones  and  inflections  of 
the  hopeful,  enthusiastic  speculator  vocalized,  jirecisely 
as  I  had  heard  them  in  theatres,  but  the  words,  too, 
were  in  kind.  Sellers  had  been  to  the  races  that  after- 
noon, so  he  was  informing  somebody,  and  he  had  bet 
on  beaten  horses  only  ;  but  he  could  make  good  his 
loss  next  day,  sure  pop,  on  a  tip  given  to  him  by  — 
and  the  name  was  whispered  confidentially.  Mean- 
while, he  dared  his  companion  to  match  silver  dollars 
ten  times.     The  challenge  was  accepted.     Sellers  lost 


JOHN   T.  RAYMOND.  363 

eight  times  in  the  ten,  and  remained  blithesome.  It 
is  said  that  Mark  Twain's  father  was  the  prototype  of 
Sellers.  Few  who  have  seen  the  character  in  the  play 
have  been  at  a  loss  to  find  in  him  the  likeness  of  an 
acquaintance.  But  of  all  the  counterparts  of  Twain's 
hero,  none  can  have  been  more  perfect  than  Raymond  ; 
and  it  was  he  who  talked  and  matched  dollars  in  the 
Saratoga  hotel. 

"See  here,"  he  exclaimed  ;  "tell  you  what  I'll  do. 
Bet  you  ten  dollars  you  can't  guess  within  ten  how 
many  times  I  use  the  phrase,  'There's  millions  in  it,' 
in  one  performance  of  my  j^lay." 

"1*11  go  you,"  was  the  reply;  and,  after  a  minute's 
thought,  the  man  added,  "my  money  goes  on  fifteen." 

"  Close  call,"  the  comedian  cried.  "  Thirteen  would 
have  won.  I  say,  'There's  millions  in  it,'  just  three 
times  in  the  whole  piece.  Most  folks  —  non-profes- 
sionals—  guess  twenty  or  over;"  and  he  pocketed 
the  ten  dollars  as  joyously  as  ever  Sellers  imagined 
a  million. 

Although  the  suitability  of  Raymond  as  an  illustrator 
of  Colonel  Sellers  rewarded  him  prodigiously,  that  was 
not  the  first  acceptance  of  him  by  the  public  as  an  en- 
tertainer. He  had  already  employed  his  marked  idiosyn- 
crasies as  Asa  Trenchard  in  "  Our  American  Cousin," 
accompanying  K.  A.  Sothern  in  America  and  abroad 
for  years.  Asa  Trenchard,  as  acted  by  Raymond,  dif- 
fered from  Sellers  in  no  particular  of  manner,  still  the 
actor  was  resentful  of  the  slightest  intimation  that  he 
was  not  versatile.  He  wouUl  answer  the  aspersions 
by  pointing  to  the  fact  that  he  had  served  long  and 
arduously  as  a  low  comedian  in  stock  companies,  play- 
ing all  sorts  of  comic  characters.     Tiiat  is  true.      It  is 


364         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

also  true  that  his  impersonations  were  never  anything 
else  than  John  T.  Raymond,  —  cheery,  volatile,  and 
likable. 

He  was  born  O'lirien  in  Buffalo  in  1836 ;  and  he  died 
in  Evansville  in  1887,  after  thirty-four  years  on  the 
stage.  He  began  in  a  stock  company  in  Rochester  ;  but 
within  a  year  he  was  at  Niblo's  Garden  in  New  York, 
as  low  comedian  to  Anna  Cora  Mowatt.  From  that 
time  until  1873  he  shifted  from  one  company  to  an- 
other, playing  his  final  season  as  a  subordinate  under 
Lawrence  Barrett  and  John  McCullough  when  those 
actors  managed  a  theatre  in  San  Francisco.  A  change 
of  play  was  made  once  a  week  as  a  rule,  and  Raymond 
took  the  various  roles  naturally  falling  to  the  first  low 
comedian. 

The  case  of  John  T.  Raymond  is  one  in  point  against 
the  common  fallacy  as  to  better  entertainment  having 
been  yielded  in  the  former  days  of  located  companies 
than  are  afforded  under  the  present  system  of  special 
casts.  Nor  is  it  true  that  the  old-fashioned  stock  com- 
panies, with  their  rapid  succession  of  casts,  trained  up 
better  actors  than  are  produced  by  the  new  order  of 
things  on  the  stage.  Then  the  actor  had  barely  time 
to  memorize  the  words  of  a  part,  with  none  left  to 
bestow  on  other  preparation.  The  result  generally 
was  that  he  played  everything  alike,  developing  no 
versatility,  falling  into  bad  habits,  and  acquiring  only 
a  monotonous  kind  of  facility. 

Out  of  such  conditions  came  a  wonderfully  enter- 
taining actor  in  Raymond  ;  but  it  was  only  when  a 
character  fitted  him  that  his  value  was  realized.  His 
own  outlines  were  fixed,  and  he  could  not  vary  them. 
So  he  was  brilliant  sometimes,  and  dull  at  other  times. 


JOHN    T.  RAYMOND.  365 

John  T.  Raymond  won  with  Colonel  Sellers.  His 
prize  consisted  of  a  fame  that  made  him  known  to 
and  liked  by  the  theatrical  audiences  of  the  land,  and  a 
fortune  that  with  prudence  of  investment  should  have 
constituted  him  a  millionnaire.  It  was  while  Ray- 
mond was  employed  by  Barrett  and  McCullough  in  San 
Francisco  in  1873,  that  George  B.  Dinsmore,  a  jour- 
nalist, discovered  in  Mark  Twain's  novel,  "  The  Gilded 
Age,"  a  personage  which  the  actor  could  realize  to  the 
uttermost  without  acting  at  all.  Without  the  slightest 
artificiality  of  face,  without  the  faintest  counterfeit  of 
voice,  and  without  more  tlian  a  slight  exaggeration  of 
natural  manner,  he  could  become  the  typical  American 
schemer  of  the  book.  The  impediment  was  not  in  art, 
but  in  business.  A  few  trial  performances  of  Dins- 
more's  dramatization  were  given,  and  then  came  a 
reasonable  objection  by  Twain  to  the  unauthorized  use 
of  his  property.  Actors  are  fond  of  assuming  that 
they  "  create  "  a  character,  when  all  they  do  is  to  place 
an  author's  creation  on  the  stage.  The  law  of  copy- 
right, however,  protects  the  father  in  the  disposition 
of  his  pictorial  children.  The  author,  in  this  instance, 
fi.xcd  on  one  hundred  dollars  as  the  price  to  be  paid 
to  him  every  time  Colonel  Sellers  stepped  out  of  the 
book  into  the  play. 

The  comedy  was  a  wretchedly  jjoor  one  ;  and  the 
audience  ridiculed  it  when  it  was  acted  in  New  York 
City  for  the  first  time,  at  that  particular  Park  Theatre 
which  stooil  in  Broadway  just  below  Twenty-second 
Street.  It  was  a  fiasco  in  everything  save  Colonel 
Mulberry  John  T.  Sellers  Raymond,  a  type  of  Ameri- 
canism so  true,  racy,  and  congenial,  that  the  audience 
took  him  into  their  best  regard  at  once.      Mark  Twain 


366        FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

had  already  overhauled  the  Dinsmore  play,  and  play- 
wrights afterward  improved  it  ;  but  it  remained  a  trav- 
esty, instead  of  affording  the  natural,  reasonable,  homely 
surroundings  which  Colonel  Sellers  deserved.  He  was 
a  dramatic  prototype,  and  he  will  not  soon  disappear 
from  our  stage.  "The  Gilded  Age  "  may  not  be  acted 
again  ;  but  its  principal  has  been  duplicated  substan- 
tially in  other  dramas,  and  will  be  used  essentially  in 
many  a  drama  to  come. 

If  the  power  of  imitation  must  be  denied  to  Ray- 
mond, and  his  success  ascribed  to  his  exploitation  of 
his  own  personality,  compensation  may  be  made  to  his 
memory  by  a  record  of  the  fact  that  he  was  a  model 
for  the  imitators.  Tribute  was  paid  to  him  by  the 
avowed  mimics.  From  variety  show  to  burlesque,  and 
from  amateur  theatricals  to  the  lyceum  platform,  no 
mimic  omitted  Raymond's  Sellers  from  his  set  of  por- 
trayals. Further  and  deeper  than  that,  however,  is  the 
influence  of  his  success  discernible  in  the  best  Ameri- 
can comedians  of  the  day.  Sellers  has  become  vario- 
form  on  the  stage.  Your  ears  take  note  of  him  in  the 
utterance  of  popular  comedians  when  they  portray 
Western  character,  or  have  anything  grandiloquent  to 
say.  Your  eyes  descry  him  in  the  pose  of  the  enthu- 
siast, with  one  arm  akimbo,  the  other  uplifted  to  its 
whole  length,  and  the  head  thrown  back  defiantly. 
That  figure  is  constantly  recurrent  in  our  native  come- 
dies and  farces.  It  is  as  firmly  set  before  us,  too,  as 
though  it  were  a  graven  image  on  a  pedestal  in  every 
public  square,  not  so  much  comic  as  emblematic  of  our 
speculative  and  hopeful  tendencies. 

The  last  time  I  saw  Raymond  in  Colonel  Sellers's 
familiarly  graphic  attitude  was  at  Long  Branch.     He 


JOHN    T.  RAYMOND.  367 

was  spending  the  summer  at  a  costly  hotel.  His  vaca- 
tion was  longer  than  his  purse.  He  had  expended  in 
personal  lu.xuries  and  unfortunate  speculations  the  great 
profits  of  "The  Gilded  Age."  His  last  wager  in  Wall 
Street  had  used  up  the  money  with  which  he  might 
have  paid  an  overdue  board-bill.  He  hadn't  dollars 
enough  left  to  pursue  his  favorite  pastime  of  odd-or- 
even.  He  was  as  completely  stranded  as  any  penniless 
stroller  at  a  cross-roads  tavern,  with  the  important  dif- 
ference that  his  landlord,  a  personal  friend  and  admirer, 
was  willing  to  be  his  host  in  the  non-mercenary  sense 
of  the  term.  But  Raymond  was  badly  off,  even  when 
relieved  of  responsibility  for  board  and  lodging ;  {or 
the  time  was  near  when  he  was  to  venture  forth  for  a 
new  season.  Certain  preliminary  expenses  were  to  be 
paid. 

"Give  a  'benefit'  performance,"  the  host  suggested. 
"  Yf)u  may  have  the  casino  rent  free." 

The  entertainment  was  given,  and  the  house  was 
crowded.     The  profit  amounted  to  a  thousand  dollars. 

••  Now,  John,"  said  the  host,  as  he  handed  the  re- 
ceipted board-bill  to  the  actor,  "  if  you  haven't  enough 
money  left  to  start  the  new  play  with,  we'll  let  this 
account  wait.' 

Huring  the  jirior  week  or  two  the  joviality  of  Rav- 
niond  had  been  a  little  forced  and  unreal,  but  with 
money  in  his  pocket  he  was  restored  to  spontaneous 
buoyancy.  Instinctively  j)lacing  one  hand  on  his  iiip, 
and  holding  the  bill  aloft,  he  proclaimeil  a  return  to 
affluence. 

"My  dear  fellow,"  he  cried,  "my  new  play's  the 
thing  'with   millions  in   it!'" 

But  it  wasn't. 


SOL    SMITH    RUSSELL. 

By  William  T.  Auams  ("Oliver  Optic"). 


Sol  Smith  Russell  was  born  at  Brunswick,  Mo., 
June  15,  1848.  His  father  had  learned  a  trade  in  early 
life ;  and,  removing  to  St.  Louis  while  Sol  was  still  a 
small  boy,  he  opened  a  store  for  the  manufacture  and 
sale  of  tinware.  The  son  did  not  inherit  any  taste  for 
the  mechanical  arts,  and  his  only  attempt  to  make  tin 
cups  was  a  sad  failure.  His  father  was  not  content  to 
make  a  lifelong  pursuit  of  his  trade,  and  ultimately 
developed  an  ambition  for  professional  life,  not  in  the 
same  direction  as  his  gifted  son,  for  he  became  succes- 
sively a  physician  and  a  preacher.  He  was  an  elder  in 
the  church,  between  which  and  the  stage  the  line  was 
even  more  arbitrarily  drawn  than  at  the  present  day. 
The  father  had  been  to  a  circus  once,  but  in  old  age  he 
entered  a  theatre  for  the  first  time  to  see  his  son  act  at 
Daly's  in  New  York.  Sol  played  the  part  of  a  tramp, 
and  made  his  entrance  through  a  window.  The  mo- 
ment he  had  put  his  foot  on  the  scene,  "  That's  Sol's 
leg ! "  exclaimed  the  venerable  gentleman.  It  was 
very  evident  that  the  son  inherited  none  of  his  dra- 
matic talent  from  the  paternal  side  of  the  house. 

Sol's  mother  was  a  daughter  of  Edwin  Mathews, 
a  teacher  of  music  in  Cincinnati.     Sol  Smith,  the  vete- 

368 


SOL  SMITH  RUSSELL 


SOL    SMITH    RUSSELL.  369 

ran  manager  and  comedian,  prominently  identified  with 
the  early  theatre  in  St.  Louis  and  the  South,  married 
another  daughter  of  Mr.  Mathews  ;  and  his  name  was 
given  to  the  future  actor,  who  has  done  more  to  make 
it  familiar  all  over  the  country  than  his  uncle  did. 
Like  her  husband,  Sol's  mother  was  religiously  in- 
clined, and  became  a  "  mother  in  Lsrael."  She  was  a 
pillar  of  the  church,  as  well  as  a  leading  spirit  in  all 
charitable  and  reformatory  enterprises.  Not  from  her 
either  did  the  son  inherit  his  artistic  taste. 

The  first  dozen  years  of  Sol's  life  were  passed  in  St. 
Louis,  where  he  obtained  his  early  education  ;  and  upon 
this  slender  basis  he  has  been  a  diligent  student,  apply- 
ing himself  earnestly  to  books,  even  carrying  his  studies 
along  into  the  collegiate  course  while  travelling.  He 
was  a  boy  among  boys  ;  and  very  early  he  developed  a 
decided  fondness  for  the  theatre,  which  he  gratified  by 
stealth.  He  was  known  about  the  theatre  as  a  nephew 
of  Sol  Smith  ;  and  this  fact  often  enabled  him  to  see 
a  play,  either  before  or  behind  the  curtain.  He  was 
deprived  of  this  privilege  by  the  removal  of  his  father, 
in  i860,  to  Jack.sonvillc,  111.  liut  his  theatrical  taste  re- 
mained with  him  ;  and  when  hardly  more  than  a  dozen 
years  old,  he  organized  a  company  of  young  fellows, 
and  walked  from  town  to  town,  giving  j)crformances  in 
barns  and  cellars.  He  had  learned  to  sing,  and  his 
comic  impersonations  even  at  this  early  age  were  the 
main  features  of  the  show.  In  this  manner  he  was 
fitting  himself  for  the  brilliant  successes  of  later  years, 
and  worked  diligently  to  improve  himself  in  the  jiro- 
fession  he  had  adopted.  Nautically  speaking,  he  did 
not  crawl  in  at  the  cabin  window,  but  worked  his  way 
aft  from  the   hawse-hole.     His  present  position  as  an 


370         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

actor  he  has  faithfully  earned  by  diligent  study  and 
hard  work  for  more  than  thirty  years. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  War  of  the  Rebellion,  Illinois 
was  ablaze  with  patriotic  excitement ;  and  at  the  age  of 
thirteen  Sol  went  away  from  his  home  with  the  army, 
as  a  drummer-boy.  He  tried  several  times  to  enlist  as 
a  musician,  but  he  was  unable  to  obtain  the  written 
consent  of  his  parents.  He  was  a  very  bright  and 
talented  youngster,  popular  with  the  officers  and  sol- 
diers ;  and  he  marched  and  drummed  with  a  regiment 
for  several  months.  At  Paducah,  Ky.,  he  was  taken 
very  sick.  The  surgeon  looked  him  over,  and  hinted 
that  he  was  likely  to  die.  The  sufferer  did  not  take 
kindly  to  this  idea,  and  crawled  to  a  steamboat,  by 
which  he  was  conveyed  to  St.  Louis.  By  various  ex- 
pedients he  contrived  to  drag  himself  to  his  home, 
where  the  faithful  nursing  of  his  mother  soon  restored 
him  to  health. 

The  convalescent  was  not  inclined  to  remain  at  the 
home  he  had  reached  in  such  dire  distress.  His  affec- 
tions seemed  to  be  divided  between  the  army  and  the 
theatre,  perhaps  because  some  sort  of  a  theatre  was 
attached  to  every  army  corps.  He  wandered  through 
the  various  camps  near  the  Ohio,  amusing  the  men,  and 
sharing  their  rations.  Failing  to  become  regularly  at- 
tached to  any  command,  he  was  compelled  to  make  his 
way  as  best  he  could.  Of  course  he  was  often  "  dead 
broke;"  but  his  tact  and  invention  enabled  him  to 
override  all  the  difficulties  of  the  situation.  To  fill  his 
exchequer  he  obtained  on  credit  a  small  stock  of  goods 
in  demand  in  camps.  His  commercial  operations  were 
so  successful  that  he  replenished  his  wardrobe,  and  still 
had  money  in  his  pocket.     It  did  not  last  long,  and  the 


SOL   SMITH    RUSSELL.  37  I 

wandering  little  minstrel  reached  Cairo  with  an  empty 
purse. 

He  was  open  to  an  offer,  and  joined  the  company 
playing  in  that  place  at  the  Defiance  Theatre  at  a 
salary  of  six  dollars  a  week.  It  was  his  first  regular 
engagement ;  and  it  was  dignified  to  have  a  stated  sal- 
ary, even  if  not  princely  in  amount.  He  was  certainly 
an  actor  of  very  general  utility  ;  for  he  not  only  played 
his  part  in  the  thrilling  drama,  but  he  sang  comic  songs 
between  the  plays,  and  drummed  in  the  orchestra.  As 
he  had  to  pay  three  dollars  and  a  half  a  week  for  his 
table  board,  his  wardrobe  and  other  expenses  exhausted 
the  rest  of  his  stipend,  and  he  had  to  sleep  in  the 
theatre  for  the  want  of  a  room.  At  this  time  he  was 
so  slender  and  delicate  of  figure  that  he  was  often  put 
into  petticoats,  and  danced  as  a  fair  maiden  around  a 
maypole  or  in  a  contra  dance. 

His  next  engagement  was  at  John  Bates's  National 
Theatre  in  Cincinnati,  where  he  sang  comic  songs 
between  the  plays.  His  next  discipline  for  a  future 
career  was  with  "  Bob  Carter's  Dog  Show,"  on  a  small 
canal-boat  with  a  cabin.  He  sang  his  songs  ;  and  if  he 
was  not  called  on  to  bark  with  the  canines,  he  was 
required  to  do  a  mule's  duty  in  dragging  the  boat.  In 
1863  he  sang  at  the  "  Red,  White,  and  Blue  "  concert 
.saloon  in  St.  Louis.  Attention  was  thus  attracted  to 
him  ;  and  it  procured  him  an  engagement  at  Deaglc's 
Theatre,  where  he  was  a  stock  actor,  and  sang  in  the 
intermissions.  In  the  same  capacity  he  playeti  in  Mil- 
waukee, and  then  joined  the  Peak  Family  as  a  singer, 
and  followed  the  army  into  Arkansas  and  Tennessee. 

During  these  eventful  years  Sol  was  a  hard-working 
youth,  continually   studying   plays   and    reading    solid 


372         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

books.  He  was  quiet  in  his  manners,  very  observing, 
and  never  forgot  what  was  worth  remembering.  This 
diligence  was  rewarded  by  a  slow  but  regular  advance- 
ment in  his  profession  ;  and  in  the  season  of  1864- 1865, 
at  the  age  of  sixteen,  he  was  the  second  comedian  of 
the  old  theatre  at  Nashville,  and  there  acted  with  such 
stars  as  Frank  Drew  in  Irish  comedy,  Maggie  Mitchell, 
Laura  Keene,  John  Albaugh,  and  others.  The  next 
season  he  was  engaged  in  the  same  capacity  at  Ben 
De  Bar's  theatre  in  St.  Louis,  where  he  played  in  the 
star  season  of  his  cousin  Mark  Smith  in  the  old  Eng- 
lish comedies,  with  Charles  Dillon  and  Lawrence  Bar- 
rett (then  the  "rising  young  tragedian").  In  1866,  at 
the  age  of  eighteen,  Sol  was  engaged  as  first  low  come- 
dian at  Leavenworth,  and  filled  the  place  of  stage- 
manager  at  St.  Joseph. 

Mr.  Russell  first  made  himself  known  in  the  East  in 
connection  with  the  Peak  and  Bcrger  families.  He 
was  the  comic  singer  and  delineator  of  eccentric  char- 
acters. In  these  engagements  he  made  himself  famous 
by  his  impersonations  of  the  ancient  maiden  ladies, 
Dorcas  Pennyroyal  and  the  Boarding  Mistress,  by  his 
imitations  of  John  B.  Gough,  and  in  dialect  pieces. 
With  the  Bergcrs  he  journeyed  all  over  the  East,  West, 
and  South,  winning  unmeasured  applause  with  what 
are  known  as  his  "  sj^ecialties,"  which  he  has  now  out- 
grown and  laid  aside.  P>en  at  the  early  age  of  four- 
teen he  attempted  to  entertain  an  audience  alone ;  and 
at  twenty  he  wrote  a  lecture,  into  which  he  dovetailed 
his  specialties,  making  a  monologue  entertainment  that 
afforded  satisfaction  to  his  audience.  As  an  elocution- 
ist he  made  a  decided  impression  with  serious  pieces, 
especially  those  of  a  tender  and  pathetic  character. 


SOL   SMITH    RUSSELL.  373 

In  1867  Mr.  Russell  joined  the  stock  company  of 
the  Chestnut  Street  Theatre  in  Philadelphia,  then  un- 
der the  management  of  William  E.  Sinn,  and  acted 
there  with  James  E.  Murdoch.  The  next  three  years 
he  travelled  in  New  England  and  elsewhere,  giving  his 
monologue  entertainment.  In  1871  he  made  his  first 
appearance  in  New  York,  at  Lina  Edwin's  Theatre.  It 
was  not  till  1874  that  he  made  his  first  pronounced  hit 
in  New  York,  at  the  Olympic  Theatre,  where  he  intro- 
duced his  specialties,  played  The  Toodles,  Jem  Baggs, 
in  "The  Wandering  Minstrel,"  and  acted  in  various 
burlesques.  The  same  year  he  joined  Augustin  Daly's 
Company  in  New  York,  playing  there  twenty-si.x  weeks, 
and  nineteen  weeks  in  Boston.  Then  he  toured  the 
country  again  with  the  Bergers,  half  the  evening  be- 
ing given  to  his  performance.  Financially  it  was  a 
desirable  connection  for  him,  but  it  did  not  satisfy 
his  ambition  as  an  actor;  and  in  1876  he  rejoined 
Daly's  company,  becoming  permanently  associated  with 
America's  best  actors. 

In  1880  Mr.  Russell  reached  a  turning-point  in  his 
career,  and  since  that  time  he  has  devoted  himself  ex- 
clusively to  legitimate  acting  as  a  dramatic  star.  For 
several  years  he  had  ambitiously  looked  forward  to  this 
idea  as  the  proper  field  for  his  talents,  schooled  by 
twenty  years  of  experience  before  the  public.  He 
fully  realized  that  he  was  capable  of  higher  and  better 
work.  Continued  years  of  success  as  a  star  have  amj)ly 
demonstrated  that  he  antl  his  friends  did  not  overesti- 
mate his  abilities.  The  principal  obstacle  in  his  path 
to  stellar  distinction  was  the  diflFiculty  of  t)btaining  a 
suitable  play,  for  his  peculiar  talents  required  a  j)eculiar 
piece.     1  le  had  been  copied  and  imitated  to  a  greater 


374         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

extent  than  almost  any  other  artist ;  and  it  was  believed 
to  be  absolutely  necessary  to  supply  him  with  his  own 
special  material,  though  it  may  be  added  that  his  genius 
had  not  yet  developed  his  true  sphere  in  acting. 

Mr.  J.  E.  Brown  of  Boston,  who  had  furnished  him 
with  many  of  the  sketches  in  his  specialties,  was  en- 
gaged to  produce  a  play.  His  work  was  well  done,  and 
the  name  of  "  Edgewood  Folks  "  was  given  to  it.  With 
this  piece  Mr.  Russell  starred  the  country  for  the  next 
three  years,  and  was  decidedly  successful  in  the  new 
field.  The  piece  contained  the  usual  elements  of  a 
drama  ;  but  the  star  was  written  into  it,  trailing 
through  it  nearly  all  the  specialties  which  had  made 
him  famous.  No  one  then  believed  that  a  play  could 
be  made  for  him  in  any  other  manner. 

In  1884,  on  the  retirement  of  William  Warren,  Mr. 
Russell  was  engaged  as  the  stock  star  of  the  Boston 
Museum,  and  played  many  of  the  veteran's  parts  at  his 
home  and  elsewhere.  In  1886  Mr.  Brown  achieved 
another  play  for  the  star,  *'  Feli.x  McKusick,"  which  kept 
the  stage  during  the  season.  The  piece  was  hilariously 
funny,  though  the  specialties  were  less  prominent  than 
in  "  Edgewood  Folks."  The  following  season  Mr. 
Russell  presented  "Pa,"  by  Cal  Walters;  and  in  this 
play  the  specialties  were  still  farther  kept  in  the  shade. 
"  Bewitched,"  by  E.  E.  Kidder,  was  the  bill  for  the 
season  of  1888- 1889.  The  piece  was  wildly  funny, 
and  was  decidedly  successful  ;  but  the  star  realized 
that  he  had  not  yet  attained  his  proper  sphere,  for  the 
right  play  had  not  yet  been  secured. 

By  this  time  Mr.  Russell  had  obtained  a  clear  idea 
of  the  distinctive  field  for  which  his  taste  and  talent 
fitted  him.     His  plays  so  far  had  been  too  trivial  and 


SOL   SMITH    RUSSELL.  375 

undignified  to  enable  him  to  realize  his  later  ambition. 
They  embodied  only  the  comic  element.  Mr.  Kidder 
had  proved  to  be  his  most  promising  dramatist.  His 
lines  were  humorous,  and  sparkled  with  wit.  Mr.  Rus- 
sell suggested  to  him  the  intermingling  of  a  genuine 
pathos  with  the  comic  element,  and  indicated  the  man- 
ner in  which  it  could  be  accomplished.  The  result  of 
the  dramatist's  effort  in  this  direction  was  "  A  Poor 
Relation."  Though  not  a  great  play  as  measured  by 
the  critics,  it  was  an  emphatic  success  from  the  begin- 
ning. It  realized  more  nearly  than  any  of  his  earlier 
plays  the  actor's  ideal  of  the  field  in  which  his  suc- 
cesses were  thereafter  to  be  won.  The  piece  was 
elaborately  staged,  and  produced  at  the  opening  of 
Daly's  Theatre  in  New  York  in   1889. 

Mr.  Russell's  next  venture  in  the  search  for  his  ideal 
play  was  in  the  employment  of  Dion  Boucicault.  The 
actor  abandoned  his  pleasant  home  in  Minneapolis,  went 
to  New  York  with  his  family,  spending  the  entire  sum- 
mer there,  and  using  all  his  time  in  conference  with 
the  veteran  dramatist.  The  new  piece  was  called, 
"The  Tale  of  a  Coat,"  "written  expressly  to  fit,  by 
Dion  Boucicault."  It  was  elaborately  mounted,  with 
new  scenery,  machinery,  and  effects,  and  was  first 
brought  out  on  trial  in  Philadelphia,  where  it  appeared 
to  be  a  success.  The  play  was  then  produced  at  Daly's 
in  New  York,  where  the  critics  mercilessly  condemned 
it  ;  and  it  proved  to  be  a  lamentable  failure  with  the 
public,  to  the  intense  disappointment  of  the  star.  It 
was  acted  for  nearly  six  weeks,  and  was  then  laid  on 
the  shelf  forever. 

In  1890  Mr.  Kidder  was  again  interviewed  ;  and 
upon  Mr.  Russell's  suggestions  as  to  what  he  wanted, 


37^        FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   JO-DAY. 

"Peaceful  Valley"  came  forth  from  his  ready  pen.  It 
suited  the  star  better  than  anything  he  had  before 
obtained.  During  a  week  he  passed  with  Mr.  Joseph 
Jefferson  at  his  summer  home,  with  Mr.  W.  J.  Florence, 
the  piece  was  read,  and  heartily  approved  by  these  dis- 
tinguished artists.  New  scenery  was  painted,  and  the 
play  was  very  handsomely  staged.  After  playing  it  a 
few  nights  at  Duluth  and  Superior,  it  was  presented  at 
the  Grand  Opera  House  in  Minneapolis.  The  largest 
audiences  ever  in  that  house  were  present.  The  per- 
formance was  witnessed  by  the  ^lite  of  the  city  where 
the  actor  resides,  but  the  result  was  equally  flattering 
in  other  cities  of  the  North-West.  .  Perhaps  "  Peaceful 
Valley  "  is  not  "a  great  play,"  as  critics  use  the  expres- 
sion ;  but  it  places  the  star  for  whom  it  was  written  in 
the  sphere  where  his  ideal  exists.  He  has  always  been 
entirely  original  in  his  conception  of  his  characters, 
scorning  to  be  a  mere  imitator  of  other  actors. 

Off  the  stage  there  is  nothing  ):)eculiar  in  Mr.  Rus- 
sell, unless  it  be  his  quiet  dignity  ;  and  he  is  oftener 
taken  for  a  clergyman  than  for  an  actor.  The  quaint 
personality  with  which  he  invests  his  delineations  is 
pure  acting ;  for  he  is  nothing  of  that  kind  at  home  or 
in  society,  though  he  can  "rise  to  an  occasion"  in 
genial  company.  He  is  quiet  but  earnest  in  his  man- 
ner, has  a  big,  open  heart,  and  is  always  and  above  all 
perfectly  sincere.  Behind  the  actor  is  the  man  ;  and 
what  makes  him  honest,  square,  faithful,  and  lovable  as 
a  citizen,  is  the  substantial  foundation  of  his  acting. 
One  less  delicately  organized  as  a  Christian  gentleman 
would  be  incapable  of  bringing  comedy  and  pathos 
into  intimate  association  as  Mr.  Russell  does  in  his 
latest  and  most  successful  plays. 


NAT.  C.  GOODWIN. 


NAT  C.   GOODWIN 

By  Frank  E.  Chase. 


Mr.  Nat  C.  Goodwin,  whom  all  foreign  critics  of 
the  American  stage  recognize  as  the  first  and  most 
representative  of  American  comedians,  has  risen  to 
this  eminence  in  spite  of  the  paradoxical  circumstance 
that  his  fellow-countrymen  have  always  regarded  him 
as  one  of  the  "  funniest  "  of  living  actors.  Some  such 
barbaric  perversity  as  blinded  many  of  the  most  de- 
voted admirers  and  enthusiastic  patrons  of  the  late 
William  Warren  to  the  very  best  and  highest  gifts  of 
that  really  great  actor,  long  threatened  to  keep  Mr. 
Goodwin  in  the  artistically  menial  position  of  mere 
jester  to  its  majesty  the  public,  and  to  deny  him  the 
opportunity  of  making  any  serious  appeal. 

It  was  in  burlesque  that  he  first  won  applause  and 
reputation  ;  and  to  burlesque  he  was  practically  confined 
for  many  years  by  a  delighted  pu]:>lic,  which  indicated 
its  unintelligent  preference  by  the  simple  but  forcible 
device  of  turning  its  back  upon  all  experiments  in  other 
directions.  Just  as  Mr.  Warren  was  well-accustomed 
to  display  his  rare  powers  of  pathos  to  peals  of  puzzled 
but  resolute  laughter  from  the  lips  of  enthusiastic  ad- 
mirers who  had  come  fn^n  distant  and  benighted  sub- 
urbs to  enjoy  their  favorite  comedian,  so  the  younger 

377 


378         FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

actor's  serious  efforts  long  encountered  similar  misun- 
derstanding, when  they  did  not  meet  with  neglect  ;  and 
his  higher  aims  were  again  and  again  abandoned  for  the 
agreeable  clowning  that  makes  a  fat  box-office.  But  in 
the  long  battle  between  Mr.  Goodwin's  self-appreciative 
ambition  and  the  stupid  conservatism  of  his  admirers, 
the  actor's  persistent  endeavor  finally  prevailed  ;  and  he 
stands  to-day,  beyond  all  question,  the  first  of  Ameri- 
can comedians. 

He  has  fortunately  arrived  at  this  distinction  while 
still  a  young  man.  It  was  on  July  25,  1857,  in  a  little 
house  on  Temple  Street,  in  the  West  End  of  Boston, 
that  Nathaniel  Carl  Goodwin  first  exercised  in  infant 
outcry  the  voice  that  has  since  become  more  pleasantly 
familiar  to  the  public.  His  parents  were  of  good  New 
England  stock,  with  no  closer  or  more  permanent  re- 
lations to  the  stage  than  those  of  patrons  and  admirers; 
so  that  neither  in  his  birth  nor  early  associations  is 
to  be  found  any  original  destination  for  the  theatre. 
The  paternal  dream,  indeed,  so  far  as  it  took  definite 
form  at  all,  looked  toward  the  law  rather  than  the  stage. 

The  youthful  Goodwin's  education  was  begun  at  the 
Mayhew  Grammar  School,  in  Boston,  whence  he  was 
removed,  after  a  short  time,  to  the  famous  Little  Blue 
Academy,  at  Farmington,  Me.  To  this  institution  he 
imported  a  taste  for  amateur  theatricals,  which  he 
propagated  among  his  fellow-students  with  a  zeal  and 
assiduity  not  altogether  to  the  taste  of  his  instructors, 
who  found  their  consolation,  and  the  chief  pleasure 
his  connection  with  the  school  afforded  them,  in  the 
talent  he  evinced  for  elocutionary  studies,  and  the 
credit  that  its  well-applauded  exercise  on  public  days 
reflected  upon  the  academy. 


NAT   C.  GOODWIN.  379 

.  Upon  graduation  he  was  given,  with  the  usual  perver- 
sity of  parental  hopes,  a  start  in  commercial  life  in  the 
counting-room  of  Wellington  Bros.  &  Co.'s  dry-goods 
store,  on  Chauncy  Street,  in  Boston,  as  entry-clerk. 
Dry  goods  proved  unusually  arid  to  him,  however ;  for 
in  his  elocutionary  triumphs  at  school  he  had  found  his 
true  bent,  and  all  of  his  leisure  time,  as  well  as  much 
that  probably  was  somewhat  differently  regarded  by 
his  employers,  was  devoted  to  the  study  of  play-books, 
and  the  assiduous  cultivation  of  such  theatrical  ac- 
quaintances as  he  was  able  to  make.  In  the  memory 
of  his  fellow-clerks,  and  among  the  traditions  of  many 
places  of  public  resort  in  the  Hub,  yet  linger  stories  of 
his  early  successes,  chiefly  as  an  imitator  of  popular 
actors. 

At  the  stage  door  of  the  Boston  Museum  he  is  still 
recalled  as  one  of  the  most  persistent  applicants  for 
the  responsible  position  of  "  super  "  that  ever  besieged 
that  portal.  Indeed,  the  greater  portion  of  his  time 
coming  to  be  given  to  theatrical  pursuits,  Messrs. 
Wellington  Bros.  &  Co.  finally  concludetl  to  give  him 
entire  liberty  to  pursue  his  dramatic  ambitions,  an 
event  which  afforded  him  considerably  more  pleasure 
than  it  did  his  parents.  The  usual  struggle  with  pa- 
ternal authority  ensued,  and  finally  culminated  in  his 
obtaining  permission  to  prosecute  his  theatrical  studies 
in  a  formal  and  systematic  manner.  He  was  accord- 
ingly placed,  for  a  time,  under  the  instruction  of 
Madame  Michell,  better  known  in  jirivate  life  as  Mrs. 
Terrell,  an  actress  once  favorably  known  in  New 
York,  who  gave  him  his  first  regular  instruction  in 
dramatic  art. 

At   this  period  it  was  Goodwin's  settled  conviction 


380         FAMOUS   AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TD-DAY. 

that  he  was  peculiarly  adapted  for  tragic  roles,  an  erro- 
neous idea  from  which  he  has  from  time  to  time  ever 
since  given  evidence  of  not  having  entirely  emanci- 
pated his  mind.  Governed  by  this  notion  he  shortly 
left  Madame  Michell,  and  placed  himself  under  the  tui- 
tion of  Mr.  Wyzeman  Marshall,  an  old-school  actor  of 
great  reputation,  who  undertook  Goodwin's  training 
in  the  direction  which  he  had  himself  followed  with 
distinguished  success.  The  arduous  curriculum  of  this 
master,  however  hopeless  of  final  honors  for  this  par- 
ticular pupil,  was  still  an  admirable  school  of  disci- 
pline ;  and  if  Goodwin  never  actually  made  his  debut  as 
Macbeth,  a  part  which  he  studied  and  rehearsed  with 
this  intention,  the  training  was  certainly  of  great  value. 

At  about  the  time  this  event  was  to  have  come  off, 
fortunately,  the  mistaken  estimate  of  his  own  powers 
which  Goodwin  shared  with  about  every  comedian  that 
has  a  place  in  the  history  of  the  drama,  was  corrected 
by  Mr.  Stuart  Robson,  who,  having  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  the  young  man,  and  formed  a  more  just  notion 
of  his  talents,  offered  the  unborn  Macbeth  an  engage- 
ment in  a  company  then  supporting  him  at  the  How- 
ard Athenaeum  in  Boston.  The  play  was  written  by 
Joseph  Bradford,  once  an  actor,  and  at  that  time  the 
dramatic  critic  of  the  l^oston  Courier^  and  was  called 
"Law  in  New  York."  The  insignificant  character  of 
the  Newsboy  was  intrusted  to  Goodwin ;  and  upon  the 
night  of  March  5,  1874,  he  made  his  actual  debut  on 
the  stage  in  this  part,  introducing  in  one  of  his  scenes 
the  imitations  which  subsequently  became  so  popular. 

The  reception  by  the  public  of  these  really  admira- 
ble feats  of  mimicry  was  instantaneously  enthusiastic. 
His   repertory    comprised    nineteen    imitations    in   all, 


NAT   C.    GOODWIN.  38 1 

including  about  all  the  popular  actors  of  that  time. 
His  reproductions  of  their  characteristic  traits  were  of 
remarkably  even  excellence,  and  in  voice,  manner,  and 
gesture  singularly  faithful  to  their  originals.  Nothing 
equalling  them  in  truth,  vitality,  and  fineness  of  per- 
ception, had  been  seen  in  Boston,  or  has  been  seen 
since.  It  was  something  more,  indeed,  than  mere 
mimicry  ;  some  subtle  infusion  of  the  spirit  of  the 
original  in  each  case  coloring  and  elevating  the  merely 
mechanical  feats  of  vocal  reproduction. 

The  outcome  of  this  revelation  of  his  exceptional 
powers  was  not,  however,  immediately  flattering.  The 
only  practical  result  was  an  offer  from  the  management 
of  Niblo's  Garden,  New  York,  of  an  engagement  to 
play  "  utility  "  business  in  their  stock  company  under 
Charles  Thornc,  Sr.,  and  Edward  Eddy,  which  he  at 
once  accepted.  The  following  season  of  1 874-1 875 
advanced  him  but  little  professionally  ;  and  though  he 
played  a  portion  of  the  time  with  some  forgotten  trav- 
elling company  on  the  road,  he  was  for  the  most  part 
idle.  It  was  perhaps  the  niggardly  behavior  of  the 
legitimate  stage  towards  her  younger  votaries  which 
experience  brought  forcibly  to  his  notice  at  this  period, 
that  turned  his  attention  toward  the  "variety"  busi- 
ness, a  branch  of  the  profession  then  even  more  than 
now  generous  in  its  rewards  to  successful  men.  It 
was,  at  any  rate,  toward  the  close  of  this  season  that 
he  made  his  debut  upon  the  variety  stage  in  a  sketch 
written  for  him  by  Joseph  liradford,  and  entitled, 
"  Stage  Struck,"  in  the  course  of  which  he  introduced 
his  imitations. 

He  appeared  in  this  at  the  Howard  Atiienxum.  the 
scene   of   his  first  success,  to  a  somewhat  tliminished 


382       FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

popularity,  and  so  was  easily  induced  to  abandon  this 
private  venture,  and  to  accept  an  offer  of  engagement 
from  Tony  Pastor,  whose  company  he  joined  at  a  salary 
of  fifty  dollars  a  week.  A  goodly  portion  of  the  year 
1875  was  passed  by  Mr.  Goodwin  as  a  member  of  this 
organization  at  Mr.  Pastor's  New  York  house,  then  sit- 
uated on  Broadway.  This  period  was  one  of  rapid  ad- 
vancement for  the  young  actor  both  in  popularity  and 
profit,  his  salary  —  the  best  measure  of  his  success  — 
having  attained,  at  the  time  he  finally  left  New  York, 
the  handsome  figure  of  five  hundred  dollars  a  week. 

But  the  variety  business,  however  lucrative,  was 
never  wholly  to  Mr.  Goodwin's  liking ;  and  always  upon 
the  lookout  for  some  better  vehicle  for  his  talents,  he 
finally  hit  upon  burlesque.  Refusing  many  flattering 
offers  to  continue  upon  the  variety  stage,  he  resolutely 
turned  his  back  upon  its  fugitive  honors,  and  accepted 
an  engagement  with  Matt  Morgan,  then  managing 
what  is  now  the  Fourteenth  Street  Theatre,  where 
he  appeared  as  Captain  Crosstree  in  the  burlesque  of 
"  Black-Eyed  Susan."  His  success  in  this  new  line 
was  pronounced,  and  elicited  a  flood  of  offers  during 
the  remainder  of  the  season  of  1875- 1876.  At  the 
close  of  his  season  at  the  Fourteenth  Street  Theatre, 
he  went  to  Philadelphia  to  play  a  "star"  engagement 
at  the  Walnut  Street  Theatre  in  conjunction  with  the 
late  John  Brougham.  Here  he  played  his  first  legiti- 
mate comedy  part,  that  of  Tom  Tape  in  "  Sketches  in 
India,"  the  second  being  Stephen  Poppincourt  in  "The 
Little  Rebel."  The  Laura  of  the  latter  piece  was  Miss 
Minnie  Palmer,  who  later  in  the  season  appeared  with 
Mr.  Goodwin  at  the  Howard  Athenaeum  in  his  old 
sketch,  "Stage  Struck,"  for  a  brief  season. 


NAT    C.    GOODWIN.  383 

It  was  in  the  part  of  Captain  Crosstree  that  Mr. 
Goodwin  first  attracted  the  attention  of  Mr.  E.  E. 
Rice,  with  whom  he  was  afterwards  lon<;  and  closely 
associated,  and  who  promptly  engaged  him  to  play  the 
part  of  Captain  Dietrich  in  the  forthcoming  produc- 
tion of  his  and  Mr.  J.  Cheever  Goodwin's  once  famous 
burlesque,  "  Evangeline,"  in  which  Mr.  Goodwin  ap- 
peared on  the  evening  of  July  10,  1876,  at  the  Boston 
Museum,  with  great  success.  This  cast  is  also  notable 
for  the  circumstance,  that  in  it  Messrs.  Henry  E.  Dixey 
and  Richard  Golden,  both  of  whom  have  since  become 
distinguished  in  their  several  ways  in  their  profession, 
appeared,  in  a  purely  figurative  sense,  as  the  fore  and 
hind  legs,  respectively,  of  the  celebrated  heifer. 

This  date  marks  the  beginning  of  an  engagement 
which  endured  without  interruption  until  1878,  when 
Mr.  Goodwin  parted  company  with  Mr.  Rice,  and  went 
upon  the  road  at  the  head  of  an  organization  of  his 
own.  It  was  during  this  engagement  that  he  met  Miss 
Eliza  Weathersby,  one  of  the  famous  beauties  of  Lydia 
Thompson's  celebrated  burlesque  company,  to  whose 
Gabriel  he  played  Le  Blanc,  at  the  Boston  Museum, 
during  the  second  engagement  of  the  "  Evangeline  " 
Company,  in  January,  1877.  An  attachment  sprang 
up  between  them  during  this  .season,  which  culminated 
in  their  marriage  on  June  24,  1877,  by  the  Rev.  M. 
Kennedy  of  New  Rochelle,  N.Y.  This  well-assorted 
union  of  talent  and  beauty  continued  in  mutual  artistic 
helpfulness  and  probable  domestic  bliss  until  the  mel- 
ancholy death  of  Mrs.  Goodwin  in  New  York,  March 
23,  1887. 

At  the  close  of  Mr.  Goodwin's  engagement  with  Mr. 
Rice  in   1878,  he  and  his  wife  gathered  about  them  a 


384        FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

company,  and,  under  the  name  of  "  The  Eliza  Wcath- 
crsby  Froliques,"  went  on  tour  in  a  piece  called  "  Hob- 
bies," written  for  them  by  Mr.  B.  E.  Woolf,  of  the 
Boston  Saturday  Evening  Gazette.  This  proved  a  most 
profitable  venture,  the  piece  continuing  in  great  popu- 
larity for  the  greater  part  of  two  seasons.  It  was  an 
invertebrate  work  written,  as  it  was  played,  in  the  most 
extravagant  spirit  of  burlesque  humor,  and  developed 
nothing  new  in  Mr.  Goodwin.  In  1881  Mr.  Goodwin 
again  joined  forces  with  Mr.  Rice,  with  whom  he  pro- 
duced at  the  Boston  Museum,  on  July  4,  1881,  Mr. 
Woolson  Morse's  "Cinderella  at  School,"  the  partner- 
ship being  described  as  "  The  Rice-Goodwin  Lyric 
Comedy  Co."  The  piece  was  not  long-lived ;  its  early 
demise  forcing  the  surviving  partnership  into  the  more 
successful  expedient  of  presenting  Mr.  Goodwin  as 
Lorenzo,  Bunthorne,  and  other  heroes  of  light  opera, 
a  line  in  which  his  comic  powers  enabled  him  to  make 
a  good  impression. 

In  the  following  regular  season  of  1 881-1882,  Mr. 
Goodwin,  again  supported  by  his  own  company,  ap- 
peared as  Onesimus  Epps,  in  a  production  of  Mr. 
George  R.  Sims's  comedy,  "The  Member  for  Slocum." 
His  admirable  light  comedy  acting  in  this  part  gave  to 
the  public  the  first  hint  of  this  actor's  possession  of 
powers  of  a  much  higher  and  finer  order  than  his  pre- 
vious opportunities  had  permitted  to  appear.  But  the 
public  were  singularly  obtuse ;  and  the  piece,  eked  out 
by  the  familiar  and  uproarious  "Hobbies,"  only  ran  a 
single  season.  His  Sim  Lazarus,  in  "The  Black  Flag," 
produced  in  conjunction  with  Mr.  Edwin  Thorne  dur- 
ing the  season  1 882-1883,  was  a  much  less  praiseworthy 
piece  of  acting,  but  a  more  pronounced  hit.     During 


NAT   C.    GOODWIN.  385 

this  season,  in  May,  1883,  Mr.  Goodwin  participated  in 
the  Cincinnati  Dramatic  Festival,  appearing  as  the  First 
Grave-digger  in  "  Hamlet,"  and  as  Modus  in  "  The 
Hunchback."  The  former  was  his  first  Shakespearian 
part,  save  that  of  Launcelot  Gobbo,  which  he  once 
played  as  an  amateur.  His  next  and  last  serious  essay 
of  Shakespeare  was  his  performance  of  Mark  Antony, 
at  Tony  Hart's  benefit  in  New  York,  March  22,  1888. 

The  last  decade  of  Mr.  Goodwin's  career  is  much  too 
familiar  to  theatre-goers  to  require  more  than  the  most 
summary  review.  In  his  bill  for  the  season  of  1884- 
1885  is  seen  his  abject  surrender  to  circumstances,  and 
his  practical  acceptance  of  his  admirers'  humble  valua- 
tion of  his  talent.  It  was  "Hobbies"  again,  re-enforced 
by  "  Those  Bells,"  a  short  burlesque  of  a  most  de- 
pressing and  dispiriting  sort,  notwithstanding  Mr. 
Goodwin's  clever  imitation  of  Mr.  Irving  in  the  lead- 
ing character.  "  The  Skating  Rink,"  his  attraction 
for  1 885- 1 886,  again  presented  its  leading  actor  in  a 
state  of  artistic  eclipse  to  an  enormous  business. 
"Little  Jack  Sheppard  "  (1886-1887)  also  did  a  great 
deal  for  the  bo.x-office,  and  very  little  for  Mr.  Good- 
win. "Turned  Up,"  the  hit  of  the  next  two  seasons, 
was  a  little  better,  the  gradual  return  of  the  actor's 
artistic  courage  being  somewhat  unfortunately  marked 
by  the  addition,  in  1888- 1889,  to  this  bill,  of  a  version 
of  De  l^arville's  "  Gringoire,"  in  which  little  play  of 
almost  tragic  power  and  elevation,  Mr.  Goodwin,  not- 
withstanding some  very  earnest,  painstaking  and  praise- 
worthy acting,  was  very  disai)pointing.  It  was  during 
this  season  in  Chicago,  on  Oct.  17,  1888,  that  Mr. 
Goodwin  married  his  second  wife.  Miss  Nella  Haker 
(Mrs.  Edward  Pease). 


386  FAMOUS   AMERICAN   ACTORS   OF   TO-DAY. 

The  season  of  1 889-1 890  was  a  memorable  one  in 
Mr.  Goodwin's  career,  since  it  provided  him  in  the  part 
of  Woolcott,  in  Messrs.  Brander  Matthews's  and  George 
H.  Jessop's  admirable  play,  "A  Gold  Mine,"  with  a 
means  of  demonstrating  the  possession  of  dramatic 
powers  of  the  highest  order  in  the  line  of  comedy,  in 
a  purity  of  quality  and  strength  of  exercise  that  sur- 
prised even  his  most  sanguine  critics.  Mr.  Goodwin's 
boundless  capacity  for  surprising  his  audiences  in  bur- 
lesque by  the  fecundity  of  his  comic  invention  and  the 
variety  and  unexpectedness  of  his  humor,  and  in  farce 
by  the  justness,  delicacy,  and  discretion  of  his  art  of 
caricature,  did  not  fail  him  in  the  higher  walk  of  com- 
edy. In  his  faithful  and  earnest  presentation  of  the 
character  of  Woolcott,  he  attained  a  cogency  of  charac- 
terization and  a  moving  force  of  pathos  that  were  alto- 
gether admirable.  His  power  of  conviction  in  this 
character,  notwithstanding  the  faint  flavor  of  exaggera- 
tion which  some  of  its  scenes  possessed,  was  simply 
overwhelming  in  its  authority,  antl  his  command  of  the 
serious  sympathies  of  his  audience  absolute  and  potent. 
Nothing  at  once  finer,  stronger,  or  more  entirely  artistic 
than  this  performance  had  been  given  to  the  stage  for 
many  years,  yet  there  were  still  to  be  found  among  his 
admirers  those  who  pined  for  "The  Skating  Rink"  and 
its  incoherent  joys.  To  this  class  he  made,  during  the 
season  of  1 890-1 891.  the  customary  concession  in  the 
production  of  "  The  Nominee,"  an  ingenious  piece  of  a 
more  farcical  sort  than  its  predecessor,  in  which  Mr. 
Goodwin  again  found  popularity.  In  conjunction  with 
this  piece  Mr.  Goodwin  also  appeared  nightly  to  no 
particular  result  in  a  short  play  of  serious  interest  en- 
titled "  The  Viper  on  the  Hearth." 


NAT  C.  GOODWIN.  387 

In  England,  which  Mr.  Goodwin  visited  profession- 
ally for  the  first  time  in  the  summer  of  1890,  his  talents 
met  with  a  very  flattering  recognition  both  from  press 
and  public.  His  Woolcott  in  "A  Gold  Mine"  was 
warmly  praised,  though  the  general  impression  made 
by  the  piece  was  less  favorable  than  here,  and  the 
critical  estimate  of  its  chief  actor  somewhat  tinctured 
by  a  consequent  prejudice.  In  "  The  Bookmaker,"  a 
play  by  Mr.  J.  W.  Pigott,  in  whicli  he  essayed  the 
character  of  Sir  Joseph  Trent,  a  cockney  type  quite 
alien  to  his  experience,  his  abilities  were  warmly  and 
unreservedly  recognized  by  the  critical  press.  Alto- 
gether, the  position  which  Mr.  Goodwin  established 
for  himself  before  the  English  public  was  juster  to  his 
talents,  and  of  considerably  greater  artistic  dignitv,  tiian 
he  held  at  that  period  at  home.  In  this  year  Mr.  Good- 
win also  produced,  in  addition  to  the  successful  "A 
Gold  Mine,"  a  piece  by  the  late  Steele  Mackaye,  en- 
titled "Col.  Tom,"  wiiich  signally  failed  to  earn  good 
oj)inions,  either  for  itself  or  for  its  producer. 

The  list  of  the  plays  in  which  Mr.  Goothvin  has 
appeared  during  the  last  five  seasons  is  a  most  grati- 
fying one ;  since  it  indicates  no  halting  or  retrogression 
in  his  artistic  progress,  and  gives  ample  assurance  tliat 
this  actor's  emancipation  fn^m  his  early  admirers  is 
final  and  conijilete.  They  are,  briefly,  as  fallows  :  1891- 
1892,  "A  Gold  Mine"  and  "The  Nominee,"  the  lat- 
ter supplemented  by  a  curtain  raiser  called  "Art  and 
Nature;"  1892-1893,  Mr.  Henry  Guy  Carlton's  "A 
Gilded  Fool,"  a  most  satisfactory  piece  both  in  itself 
and  in  its  relation  to  its  protagonist,  though  standing 
toward  Messrs.  Jessop  and  Matthews's  play  much  as 
plated    ware    stands    towartls    solid    metal,   as   its   title 


388  FAMOUS   AMERICAN   ACTORS   OF  TO-DAY. 

happily  indicates  ;  1 893-1 894,  Mr.  Gus.  Thomas's  ad- 
mirable play,  "In  Mizzoura,"  in  which,  in  the  character 
of  Jim  Radburn,  Mr.  Goodwin  again  impressed  himself 
upon  his  critics  as  an  actor  of  the  highest  powers  in 
comedy;  1894-1895,  Robertson's  "David  Garrick," 
eked  out  with  "  Lend  Me  Five  Shillings,"  and  revivals 
of  "  A  Gilded  Fool  "  and  "  In  Mizzoura  ;  "  1895-1896, 
Mr.  Henry  Guy  Carlton's  "Ambition,"  which  hap- 
pily summarizes  the  spirit  of  this  excellent  series. 

This  ends  tlie  portion  of  Mr.  Goodwin's  career  which 
has  become  history  ;  his  present  he  is  himself  writing 
nightly  upon  the  stage,  while  his  future  can  only  be 
determined  by  astrologers,  who  alone  know  the  "stars," 
among  which  he  may  be  indubitably  reckoned.  His 
present  historian  can  only  hope,  upon  what  he  deems 
excellent  grounds,  for  the  best. 

There  is  a  certain  difficulty  in  ending  the  "life"  of  a 
man  who  is  still  alive,  closely  akin  to  the  awkwardness 
of  committing  actual  homicide.  The  speediest  way  in 
either  case  is  undoubtedly  the  most  humane,  and  so 
the  bell  rings  and  the  curtain  falls  upon  this  chronicle. 
But  it  is  the  "  act  drop,"  fortunately,  that  is  rung 
down  upon  suspended  dramatic  interest,  as  in  a  good 
play,  and  not  the  "green  baize"  that  dismally  descends 
upon  the  final  catastrophe;  and  in  the  acts  still  to  come 
from  the  author's  hands,  we  have  no  reason  to  fear  any 
falling  off  of  interest  or  anti-climax  until  the  great  cul- 
minating "  death  scene  "  that  the  worst  of  actors  must 
still  play  naturally. 


DENMAN  THOMPSON. 


DENMAN    THOMPSON 

AND    OUR    RURAL    LIFE    DRAMA 
By  E.  Iren^x's  Stevenson. 


The  theatre's  picturing  of  country  life,  according  to 
its  most  real  and  familiar  aspects  in  the  United  States, 
—  that  is  to  say,  the  play  in  which  such  picturing  is  an 
end,  and  not  an  incident,  —  is  relatively  a  recent  matter. 
The  play  is  not  the  thing  in  such  a  develoi)ment.  The 
types  and  scenery  and  properties  are  the  first  consider- 
ations. An  old  plough,  or  the  sunset  on  a  barn-door, 
are  more  valuable  details  in  these  j^hases  of  art  than 
"situation;"  and  a  cowherd's  call  well  shouted  is 
nearer  the  point  of  things  than  a  rattling  dialogue.  In 
Austria  and  Germany  an  admirable  and  delightful  dra- 
matic article  of  this  kind  has  achieved  a  firm  existence, 
thank.s,  especially,  to  the  sympathetic  cleverness  of  such 
a  pair  of  collaborators  as  Hans  Neuert  and  Ludwig 
Ganghofer,  and  to  the  art  of  such  a  company  —  now, 
alas!  dispersed  —  as  Munich's  "Gartnerplatz- Theater  " 
one.  France  has  had  no  such  concentrated  jWctures  of 
its  i)rovincial  and  rustic  existence.  ICngland  has  lacked 
them.  Italy  and  the  North  know  nothing  so  special. 
In  this  country,  only  with  the  careers  of  Mr.  Denman 
Thompson  and  a  small  group  -  in  which  Mr.  Neil  Bur- 
gess and  Mr.   Richard  Golden    have  grown   famous  — 

3S9 


390         FAMOUS   AMERICAN    ACTORS    OF   TO-DAY. 

have  the  similitudes  of  humble  country  existence  been 
transferred  to  the  city,  with  instant,  attentive,  and  vast 
favor, — a  result  much  like  the  thrivin<j  of  a  potted 
wild-flower  in  a  florist's  window. 

Mr.  Thompson  certainly  has  afforded  an  extraordi- 
nary exposition  of  this  fact.  Born  in  Girard,  Pa.,  in 
1833,  but  growing  up  in  the  little  suburb,  so  to  say,  of 
Keene,  N.H.,  he  early  trifled  with  the  profession  until 
he  attracted  the  notice  of  a  shrewd  manager.  He  there- 
with stepped  into  stage-life  for  good,  out  of  an  uncle's 
big  "store,"  when  about  nineteen.  He  spent  a  con- 
siderable number  of  early  seasons  as  a  stock-actor, 
playing  melodrama  in  Canada  and  the  States.  There 
be  those  who  have  seen  Mr.  Thompson  long  ago  in 
vaudeville,  and  even  as  Sir  Lucius  O'Trigger,  —  to 
Mr.  Robson's  Bob  Acres  !  But  Mr.  Thompson  did  not 
meet  his  true  and  happiest  future  until,  out  of  a  mere 
afterpiece,  out  of  a  feature  of  a  variety  performance, 
he  began  to  elaborate,  and  at  last  to  bring  to  an  inde- 
pendent and  widely-known  fame,  the  play,  "Joshua 
Whitcomb,"  with  which  his  name  —  almost  his  personal- 
ity—  is  now  associated,  including  in  the  association  its 
sequel,  "The  Old  Homestead."  "Joshua  Whitcomb  " 
undoubtedly  owed  much  of  its  "start"  to  managerial 
enterprise  and  expense.  It  will  be  recalled  that  Mr.  Hill 
made  the  indifferent  eye  weary  with  his  enormous  flood 
of  advertisements  of  every  sort,  in  degrees  and  ways 
then  novel.  But  all  the  afkJics  in  creation  will  not 
make  a  play  a  national  success  ;  and  such  successes, 
beyond  a  question,  have  been  both  "Joshua  Whitcomb  " 
and  even  more  violently  "The  Old  Homestead." 

For  some  twenty  years  Mr.  Thompson  has  played 
nothing    else.     The    public    would    have    nothing   else 


DENMAN    THOMPSON.  39  I 

from  him.  One  passing  effort  to  substitute  a  new 
piece  was  almost  ignored,  and  it  had  to  be  retired. 
"Uncle  Joshua"  ran  a  course  of  nearly  a  dozen  years 
before  Mr.  Thompson  and  his  agent,  Mr,  Ryder, 
concocted  its  successsor.  Accordingly,  with  "  The 
Old  Homestead  "  appended,  the  stage  history  of  Mr. 
Thompson  is  told.  He  has  lately  retired.  He  has 
retired  enriched  and  almost  beloved  by  his  enormous 
American  public.  The  play  continues,  to  be  sure,  in 
other  charge  ;  but  the  original  Uncle  Josh  is  only  a 
spectator  from  afar  of  its  intense  vitality.  How  long 
is  it  going  to  keep  on  living,  pleasing,  drawing.^  Ton 
years  longer  ?  —  twenty  ? 

The  play,  taking  "  The  Old  Homestead,"  undoubt- 
edly owes  its  success  to  its  sincerity  as  tableau,  if  not 
drama.  It  presents  studies,  as  now  we  all  know,  of 
"  real  folk"  —  good  men  and  true  —  of  Keene  and  adja- 
cent neighborhoods.  The  original  Uncle  Josh,  the 
original  Cy  Prime,  are  transferences  from  flesh  and 
blood.  Moreover,  in  general  physique,  voice,  and  out- 
ward havior  Mr.  Thompson  has  curiously  fitted  into 
the  part  he  plays  with  such  sinij^licity  and  naturalness. 
The  story  is  well  constructed,  and  not  too  theatric. 
One  can  hardly  detect  where  Mr.  Thompson's  profes- 
sional technique  enters  into  so  smooth  and  apparently 
spontaneous  a  delineation.  He  dominates  the  action 
and  scenes  delightfully.  He  and  they  bring  the  heart 
of  the  country  into  the  metropolis,  bring  thither  the 
clement  from  which  the  hitter's  bone  and  sinews  so 
largely  have  come.  The  old  New  York  or  Boston  or 
Chicago  merchant,  his  fashionable  but  warm-hearted 
wife,  ah !  they  forget  these  times  of  their  clulvlife 
and  opera-box  in  this  play.     They  are  carried  back  to 


392  FAMOUS   AMERICAN    ACTORS  OF  TO-DAY. 

the  countryficd  environment  and  feelings  of  childhood. 
The  present  seems  unreal,  the  theatrical  hours  seem  the 
truth.  The  children  enjoy  the  piece's  humor  less  sen- 
timentally, but  just  as  keenly.  It  catches  every  genuine 
nature  in  its  honest  grip.  It  is  almost  wholly  genuine ; 
the  nearest  and  most  unexaggerated  stage-picture  of 
character  that  is  the  salt  of  the  American  race. 

With  Mr.  Neil  Burgess  and  "  The  County  Fair,"  we 
have  a  hurried  and  ill-carpentered  bit  of  rural  drama, 
originally  intended  only  as  broad  humor,  intended  even 
as  caricature.  But  gradually  it  became  perceptibly 
modified  and  a  bit  chastened  by  Mr.  Burgess's  employ- 
ment of  a  more  refined  and  natural  art  in  the  central 
character  of  Abigail  Prue.  The  piece,  through  his  skill 
and  simplicity  of  treatment,  as  well  as  by  its  elaborate 
and  attractive  incidents  of  New  England  farm-keeping, 
is  valuable  as  a  type  of  the  special  rural-life  drama ; 
much  as  is  Mr.  Thompson's  little  repertory.  Mr. 
Burgess  has  made  an  emotional  evolution  of  Abigail. 
We  may  laugh  at  her  pantalettes.  But  there  are  traits 
of  her  warm  heart,  her  sentiment  under  an  uncouth 
exterior,  her  simplicity  of  nature,  that  bring  deeper 
emotions  to  us.  The  femininity  of  Mr.  Burgess's 
brusque  presentation  is  wonderful  ;  and  it  makes  Abi- 
gail a  lesson  in  Vermontism  in  petticoats,  in  homely, 
cordial  spinsterhood.  Therein  lies  its  merit  and  even 
dignity.  No,  Abigail  Prue  must  not  be  counted  now 
as  mere  burlesque  or  horse-i:)lay.  Mr.  Burgess  has 
little  by  little  elevated  his  heroine,  given  us  a  finer 
and  carefuller  study  of  human  nature  to  take  home 
with  us.  We  would  go  to  a  real  Abigail  in  trouble,  to 
meet  good  advice  and  a  grave  face.  She  is  American, 
a  daughter  of   her  country  in  spindle-curls  and  thick 


DENMAN   THOMPSON. 


boots  ;  and  she  deserves  perpetual  honor  and  affection, 
in  undercurrent  to  our  mirth. 

Mr.  Golden's  "  Old  Jed  Prouty "  has  ceased  its 
course.  It  was  a  mechanical  and  insincere  piece,  too 
much  of  the  "real-pump,  splendid-tub"  manufacture,  at 
best.  But  as  Old  Jed  Mr.  Golden  delineated  a  Maine 
hotel-keeper  in  the  Bucksport  neighborhood  witli  much 
truthfulness,  —  a  shrewd,  kindly,  well-seasoned  stick  of 
Northern  timber.  The  play's  pictures,  too,  in  setting 
him,  were  delightfully  rustic.  His  making-up,  dressing, 
manner,  accent,  everything  was  lifelike  ;  and  the  scenes 
became  more  natural  as  he  predominated  them.  In 
such  a  little  episode  as  the  dialogue  between  Prouty 
and  the  chattering  youngsters,  Mr.  Golden  was  charm- 
ing. The  "  real  "  people,  the  actual,  every-day  sort  of 
situation,  could  not  be  more  faithful.  The  play  was 
too  obviously  carpentered  to  deserve  life  ;  but  Prouty 
merited  a  longer  career  than  was  his  fate. 

I  have  not  touched  here  on  the  picture-thama  f)f  our 
distinctively  Western  or  Southern  country  life  ;  for  it 
has  not  achieved,  as  yet,  any  such  independent  exist- 
ence as  has  the  New  luigland  article.  Of  this  latter, 
however,  the  three  best  types  are  those  above  noted. 
Differentiating  them,  I  should  say  that  Mr.  Thomp- 
son, on  the  whole,  has  expressed  it  with  the  nicest 
actuality  of  the  three,  —  Mr.  Burgess  coming  .short 
only  because  of  an  original  strain  of  caricature  not 
convenient  to  dismiss;  and  Mr.  Golden  perhaps  more 
an  idealizer  than  either,  during  the  short-lived  example 
he  undertook.  In  any  case,  by  such  efforts  we  have 
quite  faithful  studies  of  New  England  mankind  and 
womankind  ;  and  it  is  strange,  it  is  sometimes  pathetic, 
to  sit  and  watcii   and   hear  them  with   the  clangor  of 


394  FAMOUS   AMERICAN   ACTORS   OF   TO-DAY. 

cable-cars  and  the  roar  of  the  elevated  railway  pene- 
trating the  metropolitan  theatre,  as  a  reminder  that 
the  real  chapter  is  remote,  is  passed  or  passing  —  for 
us,  at  least  !  ^ 

1  Since  the  above  article  was  written,  it  is  due  to  Mr.  James  A.  Hearn  to  note 
that  he  has  added  tlirougii  the  play  of  ".Sliore  .Acres"  anotlier  sixicial  and  signif- 
icant illustration  of  our  drama  of  rustic  life  and  rural  character.  'J'he  limits  of 
this  article  permit  only  a  reference  here  to  Mr.  Ilearn's  delineation,  so  genuinely 
and  affectionately  just ;  and  that  esteemed  actor  deserves  a  biographic  page  and 
lines  of  appreciation  not  practicable  here. 

E.  I.  S. 


EDWARD  HARRIGAN   IN    "OLD   LAVENDER 


EDWARD    HARRIGAN. 

By  VV.  S.  Blake. 


The  stage  possesses  in  Edward  Harrisjan  an  interest- 
ing and  unique  personality,  —  interesting,  as  continued 
and  most  liberal  public  approval  attests,  unique  both  in 
the  matter  and  in  the  manner  of  his  dramatic  doings. 
Toplofty  criticism  finds  it  difficult,  or  so  affects,  to 
seriously  consider  the  plays  and  acting  of  the  Harrigan 
stage ;  but  the  play-going  public  has  not  waited  for 
these  official  declarations,  and  has  crowded  pit  and 
gallery  in  enthusiastic  commendation.  The  verdict  of 
the  masses  is  decidedly  with  Mr.  Harrigan,  and  for 
reasons  to  them  more  positive  and  palpable  than  often 
present  themselves  to  the  professional  critic.  ICnu- 
merate  these,  and  you  have  that  which  is  jK'culiar  and 
effective  in  the  work  of  Mdward  Harrigan. 

Natural  .scenes,  local  incidents,  fidelity  to  actual  con- 
ditions, the  sayings  and  doings  of  a  real  life  of  widcii 
we  personally  know  by  contact  or  observation,  an  un- 
forced portrayal  of  types  of  character  that  may  easily 
be  more  comical  in  the  every-day  world  than  in  its 
mimic  counterpart,  a  bona  fide  Irishman,  a  prime  article 
in  Irishwomen,  a  dyed-in-the-wool  negro,  and  a  jolly 
mob  of  les.ser  lights  of  the  same  general  persuasion.s, 

395 


396  FAMOUS   AMERICAN   ACTORS   OF  TO-DAY. 

in  a  rollicking  jumble  of  ludicrous  incident,  rough-and- 
tumble  fightings,  violent  breakdowns,  hurrah  singings 
of  most  popular  melodies  original  to  these  representa- 
tions,—  this  is  about  what  the  thousands  turn  out  to 
see,  and  this  is  a  Harrigan  play. 

Mr.  Harrigan  catches  Nature  at  her  vantage  points, 
and  makes  real  life  serve  the  ends  of  public  amuse- 
ment. He  does  this  with  apparent  case,  and  yet  only 
by  the  exercise  of  observation  most  varied  and  acute, 
and  by  a  sensitive  apprehension  of  the  dramatic  pos- 
sibilities in  things  around  him.  And  people  like  it  all 
because  they  fieel  a  human  relationship  to  their  dra- 
matic environment,  a  fellow-feeling  for  fellow-men.  Ima- 
gination is  not  taxed  to  catch  obscurities,  nor  credulity 
to  surround  improbabilities.  No  matter  what  the  ab- 
surdity of  situation,  it  is  all  for  fun ;  and,  like  a  lot  of 
children,  we  agree  to  play  it's  so.  With  Harrigan  both 
brain  and  nerves  may  take  a  full  night  off.  We  are 
then  at  mental  ease  for  frolic  only;  and  in  the  com- 
fortable atmosphere  of  this  very  world  in  which  we 
all  must  play  our  parts,  both  audience  and  actor  rollick 
along,  and  have  a  mighty  good  time  together. 

The  full  measure  of  Mr.  Harrigan's  abilities  as  a 
writer  of  acceptable  plays  we  believe  has  never  yet 
been  taken.  Popular  favor  caught  the  clever  comedian 
years  ago  in  the  midst  of  some  local  one-act  sketches 
that  served  as  after-pieces  to  the  old-time  regulation 
variety  show,  and  has  held  him  to  his  work  ever  since, 
with  a  tenacity  that  has  indeed  been  profitable  in  box- 
oflfice  returns,  but  neither  encouragement  nor  educa- 
tion for  other  and  better  work.  The  amusement-loving 
public  holds  Harrigan  to  a  perpetual  contract  to  serve 
up  Mulligans  and  Reillys  only,  and  joins  with  the  crit- 


EDWARD   HARRIGAN. 


197 


ical  gentlemen  of  the  press  in  jealous  watch  against 
all  attempts  at  emancipation  from  these  familiar  lines. 

To  act  in  such  lines  as  Mr.  Harrigan  proposes  for 
himself  seems  again  too  simple  a  task  to  give  criticism 
a  hold  ;  it  is  all  so  easy,  all  so  lifelike,  nothing  of  art 
about  it,  nothing  of  effort.  Anybody  could  do  it,  with 
only  a  mouth  full  of  brogue  and  a  sea-dog  roll  to  his 
legs  —  that  is  all.  But  is  it?  First,  the  conventional 
Irishman  of  the  variety  stage  is  an  undivided  affliction 
—  may  we  be  spared  his  brogue  and  his  wit!  Then, 
too,  there  is  hardly  such  a  thing  as  spontaneous,  natu- 
ral acting  ;  the  nearer  the  approach  to  nature  on  the 
stage,  the  greater  the  art.  It  is  easier  to  stride  and 
to  strut  than  to  easily  walk  through  the  scenes,  and  to 
declaim  than  simply  to  talk.  Heroics  is  the  cheapest 
type  of  dramatic  outfit.  The  very  best  to  be  said  of 
Harrigan's  acting  is  that  he  makes  us  forget  he  is 
acting.  His  methods  are  his  own,  neither  broad  nor 
flexible,  neither  elaborate  nor  subtle,  but  direct  and 
legitimate  at  every  point  of  application.  Jovial  but 
not  boisterous,  as  wholesome  in  his  wit  as  hearty,  free 
and  easy  in  every  movement,  yet  never  coarse.  The 
art  that  can  maintain  itself  amidst  such  temptations 
to  buffoonery  and  extravagance  must  be  both  an  in- 
stinct antl  a  cultivated  sense. 

If  all  we  knew  of  Mr.  Harrigan  were  what  wc  have 
seen  of  him  in  his  usual  lines,  we  would  yet  yield  to 
his  impersonations  this  undoubted  merit  of  real  crea- 
tions. But  here,  again,  satisfaction  i.s  tempered  with 
regret.  Whatever  the  success  of  the  favorite  Harrigan 
role,  and  whatever  the  commercial  reasons  for  its  con- 
tinuance, we  cannot  refrain  from  once  more  calling  to 
the   footlights  our  old   friend  Lavender,  that  we  may 


398  FAMOUS    AMERICAN    ACTORS   OF   TO-DAY. 

applaud  the  actor  in  this  creation  quite  as  generously 
as  the  author. 

Everybody  likes  "  Ned  "  Harrigan,  as  thousands  who 
have  never  met  him  socially  yet  term  him  ;  and  when 
the  fine-faced  Irishman  rolls  in  on  the  stage,  under 
whatever  name  for  the  occasion,  he  is  welcomed  with 
a  warm-hearted,  personal  fervor  that  is  at  once  half  the 
battle  for  an  all-around  evening's  enjoyment.  Harrigan 
belongs  to  New  York ;  by  birth  and  education,  and  by 
the  more  significant  part  of  his  professional  history, 
his  ties  are  in  that  city.  There  he  was  born  of  Irish 
parentage,  Oct.  26,  1845.  Though  beginning  his  stage 
career  in  1867  in  San  Francisco,  as  far  from  his  native 
town  as  the  confines  of  the  country  would  permit,  he 
soon  found  himself  amidst  his  immediate  friends  again, 
and  began  at  once  to  surround  himself  with  that  wide 
personal  clientage  which  is  so  peculiarly  his  property 
to-day. 

After  a  few  years  of  experience  in  variety,  he  formed 
a  partnership  with  Tony  Hart  in  1871  ;  and  that  part- 
nership continued  fourteen  years.  In  1875  ^^^-  Hanley 
joined  forces  with  the  then  famous  Harrigan  and  Hart 
combination ;  and  a  year  later  the  firm  opened,  fast  and 
furious,  at  the  old  Comique.  Those  were  the  halcyon 
days  of  variety  entertainments,  when  Nat  Goodwin  was 
doing  his  act  all  unconscious  of  coming  comedy  suc- 
cesses, and  Wilson  and  Hopper  were  acquiring  agility 
for  "  Merry  Monarch  "  and  "  Wang  "  successes,  and 
when  Harrigan  and  Hart  wound  up  the  show  with 
some  roaring  sketch  of  local  stripe.  Soon  this  usually 
neglected  after-piece  began  to  have  a  special  impor- 
tance with  the  crowds  at  the  Comique.  Harrigan  had 
hit   the  public  fancy.     Gradually  there  was  added  to 


EDWARD    HARRIGAN. 


399 


these  originally  trivial  conceits,  until  they  bloomed  out 
at  last  into  full-fledged  farce,  and  bore  the  brunt  of  the 
evening's  entertainment.  That  meant  "  The  Mulligan 
Guards,"  the  jolliest  lot  of  local  trash  that  ever  held 
the  boards.  A  new  and  spacious  theatre  only  increased 
the  public  appetite  for  Harrigan  wit,  and  then  came 
the  fire  that  wiped  out  the  faithful  work  of  years.  At 
this  house  (1881-1884)  were  produced  "The  Major," 
"  Squatter  Sovereignty,"  more  "  Mulligan  Guards " 
pieces,  "  Cordelia's  Aspirations." 

A  less  strong  character  than  that  of  the  subject  of 
this  sketch  might  have  quailed  at  the  misfortune  of 
the  fire ;  but  this  man  was  not  so  constituted,  and  soon 
had  the  curtain  raised  to  a  Harrigan  play  at  the  Park 
Theatre,  farther  up  town.  Here  came  in  rapid  succes- 
sion "The  Leather  Patch,"  "The  O'Reagans,"  "Pete," 
"  Old  Lavender,"  and  the  other  plays  that  have  made 
so  many  of  us  laugh  with  pleasure.  But  fortune  did 
not  fix  the  actor-author  permanently  in  any  play-house, 
and  a  still  later  experience  with  theatre-managing  had 
to  be  abandoned.  Other  cities,  however,  are  thereby 
the  gainer,  since  Harrigan's  company  is  the  more  to  be 
seen  in  the  combination  houses  of  the  country. 


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